


Valtari

by dramatisecho



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Misleading Intentions, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Weddings, Young Men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramatisecho/pseuds/dramatisecho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“...unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before.” </p><p>In which, Erik believes his love for Charles is mutual. Until he discovers that Charles has proposed to Moira.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fjögur Píanó

**Author's Note:**

> I love some good angst and tortured-lovelorn. And this story has been rattling around in my mind for a few days now, after discovering a new-found love for the pairing of Cherik. A few things to note: first off, this is my first attempt at a Cherik fic in this fandom, so bear with me as I try to navigate the characters. Secondly, I'm a sucker for a happy ending, so while there may be angst, there will eventually be happiness. Lastly, I will update when I can; it isn't going to be a long story (er, I don't think), but the end has already been plotted out, so it will be a matter of simply hashing out all the stuff inbetween.
> 
> The title of this fic is from the same-titled Sigur Ros album "Valtari" [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfJVAoTE2PI]

 

 

_Erik?..._

Charles' warm voice drifted into his head, inspiring a very small (but very familiar) smile to appear on his lips. _Charles_. He greeted back. _What may I do for you?_

He had been sketching a few designs for work when the telepath had reached out. A quiet evening, certainly; nursing a small glass of scotch, working away in his study while some smooth jazz played further down the hall in the den. Usually on a week-night like this he would have been in Charles' company already. They generally enjoyed a game of chess, perhaps dinner, or a lively debate about their views on topical mutant politics. But a few days ago, Charles had told him he had a few 'appointments' that were coming up – so at this point, it had been nearly four days since he'd seen him.

Needless to say, the metalokinetic was relieved to finally hear from him again.

 _Come by my flat_ , Charles' voice eventually answered. _Bring champagne, if you have it?_

Erik tilted his head, curious by the request, _I do have some, yes. Are you free now? Am I to come over this instant?_ His voice teased.

 _Yes, come over now. Please..._ the Brit answered.

He smiled and stood up from his work – disappearing from the study into his bedroom. It was an odd request for Charles to make (after all, Charles usually had quite a bit of alcohol on hand at his posh flat, and champagne wasn't a preferred beverage when other options were available), though he couldn't help but feel a slight flutter in his chest. Champagne meant celebration. Happiness. Excitement. So, that had to bode well for him, didn't it?

He and the telepath were close; no doubt or question about that. And yes, Erik was entirely smitten with Charles.

...Which may have been putting it lightly.

In fact, if his friend were to reach into the deepest, safest recesses of his mind... he would find that Erik was undeniably and desperately in love with him.

They shouldn't work as a pair. They had enough differences, in both their views about the world, their abilities, and their personalities overall. But they _fit_. And while they had never expressed those feelings to one another in so many words, Erik was sure Charles felt the same. Their bond was too solid; tested true, and held strong from year to year.

Now Charles was inviting him over to his penthouse. With champagne. After four days of no contact.

Knowing Charles, that was a pretty good indication that he'd missed Erik just as much as Erik had missed him. So, he dressed smartly. A simple black v-neck cashmere sweater (actually a gift from Charles last Christmas) that fit perfectly, along with simple dark blue jeans and his dark brown leather jacket with a maroon scarf. It was late fall, so certainly not freezing out, but he figured the extra layers couldn't hurt at this time in the evening. Erik combed his hair quickly, put on a bit of the aftershave he knew Charles favored, and finally grabbed the champagne from the back of his fridge before heading out.

The excitement and anticipation at seeing his friend was coursing through him at full force, though still accented by frustrating whisps of anxiety and nervousness. He _shouldn't_ be nervous. This was Charles. The telepath was arguably the most important person in his life; trusted, respected, a true equal. Everything he had been hoping to find in a companion, really. His life had been a series of ups and downs in the throws of youth, and he'd wondered at one time whether a life of solitude and bitter resentment would forever be in his cards. Him against the world, and the ever-looming stupidity of the human race. Then he'd met Charles while attending a private school in England as a teenager... and everything changed.

As his cab pulled up at the infamous Pierre Hotel (where Charles was residing in the Penthouse), he took a moment upon exiting the car to breathe in and out slowly. Calming himself, and eventually easing his face to relax. Smile.

His patience had paid off. The subtle touches, the affectionate tones, knowing the man's preferences inside and out, keeping track of the grievances and triggers. Those brief, soft stolen kisses in empty hallways or their kitchens late at night. Nothing had ever progressed. Erik (while certainly eager to stake a claim on the adorable professor) respected him too much to simply take a leap into that territory. Charles' experience was largely attributed to women, and he'd seemed almost shy when accepting or bestowing those affections toward Erik; almost as if he was still uncertain. So, he hadn't pressed, and had allowed the telepath to move at his own pace. He took whatever scrap, no matter how small, the other was willing to give.

He was bid a 'good evening' by the familiar doormen as he jogged in, through the lobby and to the elevator. He took out the key Charles had given him months ago, and slotted it into the 'penthouse' spot at the top of the button rows. He turned it, then clicked the 'P' button and away he went. He took another few breaths, chuckling to himself at how absurd he was being. _This was Charles_ , he reminded himself. No need to feel anxious. No need to be worried. No need to... hold up appearances any longer. Even if Charles wasn't willing to make the first move, Erik intended to go for broke tonight.

It was high time he told the brunet exactly what he thought of him, and leave it at that.

So he was a bit surprised to find, when the elevators opened to reveal the lavish flat, that he could hear a number of voices drifting through the gallery, the hall, lingering from the kitchen. He furrowed his brow as he made his way toward that room – appearing in the doorway to see Raven, Hank, Alex, Sean, Moira (a young woman he'd only met three times, at most), and finally, Charles himself. His heart skipped slightly at the sight of him again; doe-like eyes round and blue, soft brown hair, warm persona.

“Erik!” he was pulled out of his thoughts as Charles called his name.

The others turned to face him as he strode into the kitchen, champagne tucked in the crook of his arm as he offered them an uncertain smile, “So, we're celebrating something specific then, are we?” he smiled, moving to stand within the small circle of the group.

It was only then he noticed Charles' arm was draped around Moira's waist. His heart, he could swear, stopped beating briefly as his friend answered,

“Well, I'd say so...” he chuckled, looking at Moira and exchanging a sheepish smile with her. “Moira and I are engaged.”

Raven and Moira did a bit more squealing upon hearing that 'word' again, while Hank, Alex and Charles were laughing and teasing one another about 'what's to come' regarding the horrors of planning a wedding.  
  


But Erik heard none of it. It was muffled and distant and... he blanked.

Engaged.

Charles was _engaged_ to Moira.

 

He blinked a few times, inhaling suddenly when his brain flashed a sharp warning regarding the lack of oxygen – he hadn't even noticed that he'd forgotten to _breathe_ in those following minutes. His eyes had drifted down to the floor as his mind repeated that phrase over and over in his head; Charles was engaged, Charles was engaged. When he looked back up to the group, everyone was still chattering mindlessly, though Charles was looking at him with what appeared to be... concern?

 _Erik?_ He projected.

But before he could offer a reply, Raven cut in vocally, “Erik?” she laughed, “You look more shocked than I was. I know it's hard to believe- Charles being able to stop rambling long enough to get out a proposal -but come on! Crack a smile at least.”

Erik shook his head and cleared his throat, giving a small laugh, “Yes, sorry. Sorry. Just- …that's not what I was expecting to hear.” he admitted, setting the champagne down on the counter as he peeled away at the foil. “It definitely calls for some champagne.” he smiled as he worked to open the bottle, shifting aside when Hank and Raven began to put some flute glasses on the table for him to pour into.

 _Erik..._ Charles' voice probed again.

But he ignored it; pulling up what defense he had learned over the years – hoping it would be enough to indicate that he didn't want to discuss it.

He poured the champagne into each glass while his mind raced, going over every detail – every conversation, every encounter and moment shared between them over the last ten years... wondering how and where he went wrong. What signals had he misinterpreted?! Had Charles just been toying with him? Leading him on? The rare kisses they had shared – while shy and sweet in nature – had been _Charles_ ' doing. Erik had gone along, showing he was definitely willing-and-waiting to take that next step.

And now... after four days of separation, his best friend was engaged.

“Ok, ok, now that we can do this properly,” Raven interrupted his thoughts again, “A toast... to Charles and Moira. I think it's safe to say the announcement has shocked us all,” she laughed - though her eyes did settle on Erik for a moment - before she continued, “But I can't imagine a woman more perfect for Charles.” she smiled.

There were muttered choruses of 'here here' as the small group lifted their glasses and drank. Erik kept a tight, polite smile plastered onto his lips, which certainly didn't reach his eyes. Everyone was chattering atop one another, though mostly in pairs; Raven and Hank, Moira and Charles, and Alex and Sean. He did notice that Sean looked a bit upset as well, though Erik couldn't imagine why. Perhaps he was simply in a sour mood.

“You look very sharp tonight, Erik.” It was Moira who addressed him this time. Overly sweet, almost to the point of irritating him, though her face looked keen and genuine. There was a chance Charles had told her they were good friends, and she was making the effort. Oddly enough, Erik wished he'd been granted that same courtesy and had been told by Charles about Moira... and her importance in his life.

He nodded, “Yes, well-...” he paused, well aware that admitting he'd expected the night to evolve differently would only amplify the humiliation and betrayal he was feeling. “I've actually got a date.” he blurted, downing the rest of his champagne quickly, “In fact, I only meant to stop by for a moment. I'm running a bit late as it is.” he said, placing the delicate glass aside. Everyone seemed to be eying him a bit warily, but made no noise of protest. “Congratulations, again.” he nodded to Charles and Moira.

Moira... who was smiling politely, happy, warmed. Charles... who was surprisingly stone faced, embarrassed even, perhaps ashamed.

Erik turned and made a quick exit from the kitchen, back down the hall to the front gallery, where he pressed the elevator button a few times – hoping to summon it quicker so he could avoid-...  
  


“Erik.”  
  


Charles' familiar, British voice was behind him now. Erik sighed and clenched his jaw, turning to face the shorter mutant who was looking up at him sheepishly, “I thought it would be polite to see you out.” Charles offered him a small smile. “Since you came all this way, and- … brought the champagne.” he paused, “I'm sorry, by the way. It was a bit of an impromptu celebration at Raven and Moira's request, and- … I knew you had some, so I- … you know... and I know we haven't seen each other in a few days. I've missed you. I'd love to get together soon so w-”

“Stop babbling.” Erik snapped. He wasn't cold, but it was clear he was in no mood to find Charles' chattering endearing. “It's fine. It's an important night, and you- … I was going out anyway. I told you.”

Charles eyed him sadly, “Yes. You said. A date.” he recalled gently. There was a flicker of something in Charles' eyes that Erik couldn't decipher at the moment, before he spoke again, “Who with?”

“Doesn't matter.” The metalokinetic answered, his shoulders sagging with a bit of relief as the elevator pinged, and opened to let him in. He slipped inside, and quickly hit the button for the lobby.

“Erik.” Charles' said again, voice more pleading now than it was before. “I'm sorry.” he said quickly, exhaling a short breath as he looked at Erik regretfully. “I should have said something, but- … it's not- … there are things that I need to-”

With a quick gesture of his hand, Erik helped the metal doors of the elevator close quicker, cutting off Charles' lame attempt at an explanation – before slowly beginning to descend away from the penthouse floor. It was only then that he realized he was close to hyperventilating. His chest was tight; his breathing shallow, quick as he tried to suppress all the emotions threatening to swirl to the front.

_Hurt, betrayal, confusion, disappointment, resentment, anger, shock, depression, regret, panic..._

He must have been projecting unconsciously, because he heard a soft, familiar British voice drift thorough his head again,

 _Oh Erik..._ Charles' gentle pity and sad tone only made Erik barrel his way out of the elevator the moment it was open - through the lobby and onto the street faster than he ever had before. He had to get away. He wanted to scream and curse, he wanted to flip cars or destroy a bridge... he wanted to do something that would help him deal with this unexpected pain. This heartache.

He'd been a fool.

 

* * *

 

A month went by.

It was agony.  
  


But Erik had always fancied himself to be strong; able to bear any emotional weight with a straight face, always hiding his pain. Of course, avoiding the man you loved was harder when said-man was a telepath. He'd reached out to Erik several times; at least once a week, trying to engage in conversation or make sure he was alright.

When that failed (and nearly another month passed) Charles moved on to attempting to text him, and leave messages at his work via his secretary or through his voicemail. Erik could deal with the messages from his secretary, as they were easy enough to crumple-up and throw away. The voicemails were harder to avoid; rather, the temptation to _listen_ to them, to hear the familiar intones of Charles' sweet voice.

But it would be harder in the long run. He knew that. It was best to make a clean break from Charles while he could. The pain and anger were still fresh. Charles would have his Moira; they would get married, be extremely wealthy and start popping out lots of children because Charles _liked_ children – and because the probability that they would be mutants was high, he might finally open that school of his that he'd been dreaming about. That mansion in Westchester wasn't much good for anything else anyway.

_Erik?_

That damn voice in his head again. He sighed, and continued typing one of his many proposals up on his laptop. It was pouring rain out, a bleak overcast day, and he'd decided to work from home.

 _Erik, please answer. I know you're not at work today. I checked,_ Charles' voice returned, gently chastising, but more teasing than anything, _Unlike **you** , your lovely secretary isn't avoiding me – so she was happy to give up the information as to your whereabouts._

The mutant groaned, _Get out of my head, Charles. I'm busy._

 _Erik! Hello! Good! You've finally answered..._ he sounded excited. _I'm coming over. I need to speak with you. And since you haven't been returning my calls, I figured it would be easier to just drop by._

That made him immediately tense. He straightened up in his chair, _I'm just about to head out, actually. Got some errands to run._ He lied, hoping to deter the telepath.

 _Well, it's a good thing I've just arrived. We can have a quick chat before you leave._ Charles' bemused voice returned, followed by a quick knock at his front door.

Erik stood up from his desk, and remained frozen in his study. He could feign ignorance. Not answer the door. It was a childish move, but frankly, he was willing to do anything at this point to avoid the dreaded conversation that was about to occur. He waited, holding his breath slightly in the hopes Charles might give up... but instead, he heard (and felt) the tell-tale sign of a key being slotted into the lock, before the door opened.

“Erik?” Charles called happily into the flat.

The mutant growled, and stormed out of his study, fueled by anger now and moving briskly down the hall before emerging into the den. Charles was standing there – dressed cutely in a maroon sweater with corduroy pants; a pleasant smile plastered onto his face. “How did you get in here?” Erik demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“You gave me a key,” Charles quirked a brow, holding up the small item for show, “Remember?”

Erik _did_ remember. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But in light of recent events...

He lifted his hand, and with a flick of his wrist – the key shot out of Charles' fingers, right into Erik's awaiting palm. He clutched it, and shoved it into his pocket while keeping his eyes locked on the telepath.

“Oh, come on. Was that necessary?” Charles pouted, frowning like he was legitimately hurt by having his 'key' privileges stripped.

Erik ignored him, and moved into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee, “I told you, I'm busy Charles,” he steered the conversation back to the matter at hand, “What exactly is so important that you felt the need to both harass me at work, at home, and in my mind?”

Charles followed him into the kitchen, and leaned back against the counter, keeping his eyes fixed on Erik's back.

“I've missed you.” the telepath admitted in a sheepish tone. “It's been about two months since we really spoke, or... saw each other.” Charles reminded him hesitantly. “Have I done something to upset you?”

Erik wanted to scream and curse; to ask Charles how he could _possibly_ be so blind, so obtuse for someone so intelligent. “No.” he ended up saying; his damn fondness for the man still outweighing his hurt. “I told you. I'm just busy.” He turned the coffee machine on after prepping the filter, then turned to face Charles, “As should _you_ be. You've a wedding to plan, after all.”

There was a bit of bite to his tone that certainly didn't go unnoticed by the telepath. Charles, at least, had the decency to blush and look a bit resigned. “You don't like Moira.” he ventured.

“I don't _know_ Moira, Charles.” Erik corrected, heading into the den to straighten up some of his things while the coffee brewed. “I've met her three times and now she's going to be your wife. It's absurd.”

Charles, much to Erik's chagrin, followed him into the den, “She's lovely. Very nice. Long-time family friend of the Xavier's. She teaches elementary school in the city, and... is quite eager to get to know you...” he said, keeping his eyes trained on his friend. “According to Moira, I talk about you entirely too much.” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“I'm ecstatic that you and she can talk freely about _me_ , while I remain in the dark about the fact you were planning to propose to a woman you only spoke of to me _after_ I met her those few times.” Erik snarled, heading back toward the kitchen.

He was detained, however, when Charles gripped his arm – tugging hard enough to stop him so they were locked within each others space. The telepath was looking up at him with those expressive blue eyes of his, “Erik.” he coaxed gently, “Look, I am sorry. You have no idea _how_ sorry.” he huffed, as if this conversation was draining for him, “This is happening fast, I realize that, but- … I don't want to lose you over something like this. Over a mistake.”

Erik barked out a bitter laugh, shrugging off Charles' grip to head back into the kitchen. “Define 'mistake', Charles,” he growled, grabbing a mug to pour himself a coffee, “Are you referring to how 'close' we were getting? To your upcoming marriage? Or the fact you hid your intentions from me?”

Charles didn't answer, which only seemed to upset him more. Erik took a sip of his black coffee – ignoring the fact it burned the roof of his mouth. “I need to get back to work.” he muttered, “Is that all?”

He chanced a look back to his friend, who looked equal parts devastated and lost. Like a kicked puppy. It was hard to resist, and Erik nearly opened his mouth to apologize for being so hostile... before he remembered he had no reason to apologize. _He_ was the one who'd been hung out to dry.

“I'd like you to be my best man.”

He blanked at the words. Best man. Charles wanted _him_ to be his best man; _involved_ in the wedding, _present_ at the wedding, _witness_ to the wedding. Basically his worst nightmare come true.

“...Erik?” Charles prompted softly.

He pursed his lips together, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything that would make it worse. “I don't think so, Charles.” he managed after an uncomfortable minute of silence.

“Don't-...” the brunet interrupted quickly, before composing himself with a breath, “I just- … think about it. Please. Think about it.” Charles left him with a small smile and a nod, “I'll let you get back to work.” He began to head toward the door while Erik's eyes followed him as he moved. It almost looked as if Charles was reluctant to leave. “Can I ask, though...” the telepath paused, door partially open as he looked back at Erik. “Don't ignore me anymore. Please. I can't- … I... don't like it. I don't like not speaking with you. Or hearing you.”

He wanted to say 'no'. He wanted to make no such promise. But instead, Erik found himself nodding. It wasn't like Charles to manipulate him via his abilities or by emotional means. On the contrary. He seemed surprisingly... sincere in that moment. It was a plea, barely a request. No. _Plea_ was definitely the word. And no matter how hurt he was, Erik was never able to deny Charles something he genuinely asked of him.

“Thank you.” Charles' frown turned into a hopeful smile. He sucked in a deep breath, nodded a silent farewell to Erik once more, before leaving and closing the door with a soft click behind him.

 

When Erik finally decided to move again, he realized that his coffee had gone cold.


	2. Varúð

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Charles occupies the penthouse at the Pierre Hotel in NY, as well as the mansion in Westchester (which is his family's estate). The floorplan spans the three floors that make up the penthouse, and can be seen here: http://www.therealestalker.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/Zweig_Pierre_FP.jpg - you can also google search it for images, if you're curious as to what it looks like.
> 
> Regarding timeline: because the characters will be hovering around a wedding, the timeskips referenced will sometimes be 'weeks' or 'months' at a time. If it wasn't clear in the previous chapter, after Erik discovered Charles was engaged, he tried to avoided him for about two months. This chapter only takes place about a week or so from where the previous chapter left off.
> 
> I also wrote/edited this chapter late last night, so if there are any mistakes I apologize. I'll comb through it again when I'm more awake ;)

 

“So... what? You're just going to become a hermit now? Never going out? Never speaking to us again?” Raven asked, sliding right past Erik, who was doing his best to block the doorway.

His first mistake, of course, had been actually answering and _opening_ the damn door at her insistent knocking. “Raven. I'm _busy_.” he sighed, the weariness at what was coming already evident in his tone.

“Yeah, that may work on Charles. Not on me.” She answered, turning in the center of his sitting room to finally glare at him; arms crossed, sturdy, unmoving. “So. How long?”

Erik paused, before closing the door with a solid slam. “How long _what_?” he growled, feigning ignorance as he joined her in the sitting room.

“How long have you been in love with Charles?” Raven pressed, “I'd venture a while. Given the way you looked when you heard-...” she had the decency to lose a bit of her steam, perhaps imagining the (apparently obvious) 'look on his face' that had given him away. “Does he know?”

Erik rubbed his eyes and collapsed back onto his sofa, “Seeing how he's kissed me on at least two separate occasions, yes, I'd say he knows.” he looked up at her, “He was curious. That's all. I- … misread everything.”

“There has to be more to it than that.” Raven frowned, shaking her head, “Did you actually _tell_ him you like him? I mean, in a straight forward way? You know as well as I do that even for a brilliant telepath, Charles can be ridiculously ignorant about these things.”

He slumped back further onto the sofa, “I hadn't told him in so many words that I- … _enjoy_ his company,” Erik dodged, knowing that if he hadn't said those ever-looming _three-special-words_ to Charles yet, there was no way in hell he was going to say them to Raven first. “But I was perfectly clear. I kissed back when he kissed me, I didn't rush anything, and even the most _obtuse_ soul on the planet would have been able to catch the signals I was giving. Case in point...” he gestured to her.

She glared at him, seemingly taking a bit more offense to his jab than intended.

That was when she shifted into Charles. Erik immediately sat up a bit straighter – on alert – despite knowing perfectly well that _she_ was not Charles. “So,” the imposter-Charles spoke, “Why don't you tell me then? ...Right now?”

“Stop it.” Erik snarled, standing up and clenching his fists. This was definitely not something he wanted to indulge in. Especially not for Raven's personal, twisted amusement.

“This is very simple, Erik,” not-Charles purred, taking a few steps toward him, “Either you tell me. Or you lose me. And I'll be none-the-wiser as to the degree I've hurt you. Broken you.” he said, voice turning to a huskier register. Erik kept himself poised and tense, but found he was frozen in place... already bewitched, infuriated, and consumed by the image of Charles in front of him. “Are you really alright with me marrying someone else?... Waking up with someone else? Kissing them? Touching them? Fucking th-”

Raven's taunting was cut short as Erik grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her violently up against the nearest wall. “Enough!” he bellowed, tightening his grip to the point of jostling her back to her blonde and blue-eyed form. She looked a bit frightened, but more shocked than anything. Erik loosened his grip, and stepped back – keeping his eyes downcast. “Enough...” he repeated, quieter this time.

“I'm- … sorry, Erik. I'm sorry,” the apology did seem genuine, “I went a little far, but... I just want you to be ok.” Raven reached out to rub his arms, trying to relieve some of their retained tension, “And I don't think you _will_ be, until you tell Charles everything. You have the chance to present him with an option he might not have considered, or even believed was open to him.”

The shifter moved past him then, heading back toward the front door, “Raven.” he stopped her. She turned to look at him, “Did I... hurt you? I'm sorry.” he offered, still flexing and clenching his hand.

“I'm fine. It was my fault. No harm done,” she assured him with a gentle smile. She moved back toward him, briefly, to offer a light kiss on his cheek. “Don't give up on him, Erik. I've seen the way he looks at you, and- … wedding or not... Charles cares about you. A lot. And trust me when I say that's a very lucky position to be in. Talk to him. Don't shut him out. He's done nothing but mope about it for the past few months.” she smiled sadly, patting him again on the shoulder.

“Thanks.” he said in lieu of a farewell. Raven nodded, and disappeared back out the door.

His flat was silent again. The Xavier siblings were certainly forces to be reckoned with, in their own rights. He'd befriended Charles long before he met Raven of course, but was fond of her in the way a brother would look out for a younger sibling. Though, he gathered from the occasional rant that Charles _more_ than made up for any big-brother syndrome he could feel, so generally he tried to treat Raven like nothing more than a friend. The protectiveness came from a stronger need to impress Charles. As if to say, _Look how well I get along with your family. Look how well I could fit into your life._

Erik padded down the hall toward his bathroom, hoping a cold shower might help him wash away these lingering feelings of failure and embarrassment. He knew he was attractive, relatively speaking. Intelligent. Well-read. A bit cold and stiff at times (or so he was told), but once comfortable, he could be just as cheeky and playful as the best of them. He just needed the right people. Trust wasn't something that came easily to him. But if it came down to it, Erik knew he _could_ find a date, if he wanted. He could find a relationship and work at it like everyone else.

But he wanted Charles. Only Charles.

And _that_ was his problem. Actually, it was relatively easy to blame that foolishly optimistic, overly charming telepath; ever since meeting him, no one ese had even come _close_ to inspiring such feelings in Erik. From the humble beginnings of their friendship through Eton (where Erik had transferred, fortunate to find a sponsor and keep up his grades) – to college and university. He'd kept up. He'd won Charles respect, loyalty and friendship. And in doing so, he'd fallen deeper and deeper in love with the young man with each passing year.

“Fuck.” he muttered aloud to himself.

The water wasn't helping as much as he'd hoped.

 

* * *

 

Erik found himself at the Pierre Hotel once again. Charles and Moira were throwing an engagement party. Both had friends, co-workers, and family that wanted to celebrate. And the telepath, being just as gracious and accommodating as he always was, offered to host it in his penthouse – given the space and staff he could afford to hire. Erik hadn't been entirely sure he would attend. He hadn't RSVP-ed to Charles, though he _had_ received between twenty-to-thirty threatening texts from Raven about going.

So here he was. Well dressed in a simple black suit and white button-up shirt, paired with a black tie. Simple and clean, no desire to stand out by wearing a trending item, or something fashion forward. He wanted to blend in. That was all.

There was even a very, _very_ slim chance that Charles wouldn't even notice him amongst the other party-goers and well-wishers... a slim chance he could get through the evening relatively unscathed.

With a few more calming breaths, Erik finally headed inside and over to the elevators. He found that this time, unlike the others he'd visited his friend, there was an elevator-operator inside. He nodded, “Which floor?” he asked politely.

“Ah... the penthouse. Xavier.” he muttered.

The hotel boy nodded, “Your invitation, sir?”

Erik produced the small envelope and invitation from the breast pocket of his coat. The hotel boy nodded, turned the key for the penthouse floor, and began to ferry them up. Erik had intended just to use his _own_ key, but, apparently this was the vetting system. It made sense. Other guests wouldn't have keys (at least he hoped not; he'd felt particularly special and pleased the day Charles had handed him a key to the penthouse floor to help make his visits easier).

When they arrived, he gave a silent nod to the elevator operator, and stepped out. There were butler staff, who immediately welcomed and ushered him up the stairs toward the South reception room – where they provided him with a glass of champagne – before again, directing him up the stairs to the Grand Salon.

It really was a spectacular space, and Erik had often marveled at the stunning architecture of the building in its entirety, but particularly, Charles' penthouse. The crowd, on the other hand, was a good deal larger than he was expecting, with guests dressed to the nines and fanned out all across the room. There was a small jazz trio set up in the far corner by the entrance to the sitting room; the music was smooth, and wafted along with the lively conversation into one, well orchestrated atmospheric thrum.

Happy guests. A happy celebration.

He drank nearly half his champagne in one swoop, taking his first few steps into the room. Naturally, his eyes drifted in search of familiar faces. He saw a few he recognized as Charles' co-workers from the university. Alex and Sean were also there, both with dates on their arms (though again, Sean looked rather glum, and a bit distracted). Raven and Hank were engaged in a fairly lively, but hushed, conversation by the large buffet table, and finally... his eyes settled on Charles.

He looked wonderful in a simple tux. He'd gotten his hair trimmed as well; a shorter cut, though still a bit longer around the top. _Could still thread my fingers through it..._ his mind supplied, before he quickly wiped that impulse away. The telepath was clean shaven, looking rather sprightly, and standing dutifully at Moira's side. They were talking to an older couple who, given their features, were undoubtedly Moira's parents. Charles hadn't noticed him yet (Erik wasn't sure whether to be thankful or a bit miffed at that) though for good reason: there was a sea of people between them. He wondered how much 'louder' the room was to Charles, given his abilities. Really. He knew he shouldn't be surprised Charles wasn't honing in on him right away.

“Erik.” he was startled to find Raven and Hank now standing beside him, both with matching smiles (though Hank's was always a little more subdued and shy). “I wasn't sure you'd show, but I'm glad you did.” she beamed.

He nodded, running a hand back through his hair to ensure it still looked neat enough, “I don't know how long I'll stay. It's... crowded in here.” he said, tilting his chin toward the rest of the chattering guests. “I didn't think it would be on such a grand scale.”

“Well... I think it was mostly Moira's parents. They wanted a big to-do. They're a bit old fashioned. I think she and Charles would have been just as happy with our little celebration after he proposed.” she shrugged, adjusting the top of her dress, while holding steady a wine glass in the other hand. Erik's jaw tightened a bit at the memory, but he quickly forced himself to relax. There was no need for that anymore. This wedding was going to happen, and there was very little he would be able to do to stop it. _Besides object when the time comes..._ he thought.

“I think we should get Sean some water before things get out of hand...” Hank finally spoke up, drawing Erik and Raven's attention back to him – then across the room to look at Sean. The Scottish lad already looked like he was in the bag; swaying, starting to get loud. And he still looked mildly irritated.

Erik frowned, “What exactly is that boy's problem lately?”

“Said the kettle to the pot.” Raven muttered beneath her breath, though loud enough that Erik still cut her a glare.

Hank adjusted his glasses, “You don't know?” he huffed, shaking his head as a small smile touched his lips, “Sean's a bit... taken... when Moira.”

“...You're kidding.” Erik gaped.

“ _Taken_ is putting it lightly.” Raven groaned, downing the rest of her wine, “He's been sweet on Moira for a few years. Though when they met, Sean happened to be very, very intoxicated. He didn't do anything stupid, but he wasn't charming or sweet either. I think Moira wrote him off rather quickly as immature. He's been trying to prove her wrong ever since.”

Hank shook his head, “And you can see how well _that's_ been going.”

The trio watched Sean wobble a bit, only to be steadied by Alex – who caught their eye from across the room – and gave a stern look that clearly said: _You can step in now._ “Come on.” Raven sighed, tugging her boyfriend along through the crowd. Erik debated following, but he didn't want a part of that particular drama tonight. Besides, he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

He wandered over toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed a fantastic view of Central Park and the New York skyline. He admired it for a few moments, before moving his eyes back to Charles. He was surprised to see Raven speaking to her brother – evidently doing a quick pit-stop to let him know about the impending drama with Sean. Though by the expression on their faces, she was also alerting him to Erik's presence. The pair looked up to where he had previously been standing, before they began to scan the crowd for him.

Erik ducked out onto the South West terrace. Christ. _This was absurd. Is this what he'd been reduced to? Hiding and keeping out of sight of Charles? They were friends, at the very least, weren't they?... Shouldn't he be able to be a grown up? Why did this damn infatuation have to hurt so much?_ He had to let it go. Charles wanted to marry someone, and that someone wasn't him. That was that. They had been friends for over a decade now, and that was definitely worth more than a little heartbreak.

 

Ok, a _lot_ of heartbreak.

 

He took a few steps toward the stone terrace ledge. It was chillier up here than on the street, especially considering that it was almost November... but it was refreshing too. The air felt nice. Calming.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were purposefully trying to avoid me.” Charles' voice washed over him like a familiar blanket. “Regretfully, my friend, I know you too well. I didn't even have to check the North West terrace. I knew you'd go South. You're more fond of the view from this side.”

That made Erik chuckle a bit, as he leaned back against the stone ledge, trying for a more 'casual' pose. “Needed some fresh air, that's all. It's a bigger crowd than I expected.”

“Yeah... Moira's parents went a bit overboard. Thank goodness I was able to cap the number. I think they intended to have every single person we've ever met attend tonight.” Charles sighed, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked Erik up and down. “But you look very handsome. Tailored suits really flatter you.

Erik rolled his eyes, “I don't wear them as well as you.”

“Bollocks. You've got the height and well-toned upper body to pull them off. I'm short and British, Erik. Forever doomed to be 'cute' and nothing more.” He laughed, walking over to stand in front of his friend. Erik couldn't help but chortle in response, shrugging – and unable to dispute the fact that, yes, Charles would forever be in the 'adorable' category. “I'm really glad you came, Erik.” Charles continued after a pause; his large, blue eyes fond. Softer. “It means a lot. I'm- … I don't think I'll be able to do a lot of this without you. Without your support.” he admitted, shifting over to lean against the stone ledge beside the metalokinetic. “You ground me.”

Erik really didn't know what to say to that. Thankfully, Charles didn't seem to be expecting an answer. “How are you holding up?” he asked, finally. When his companion looked at him in confusion, Erik clarified by tapping his temple. “A room full of chattering people?... You able to shut them out?”

“Oh! Heavens no.” Charles mused, “I mean, it's not _bad_. Though I am certain that I could tell you, with about ninty-six percent accuracy, who is planning to 'go home' or 'make a pass' at who.” he chuckled, “There's something about wedding parties and events that spur desperation in everyone. Suddenly, people start hooking up left and right.”

Erik smiled, looking back toward the terrace door, “Well, I'm all ears.” he grinned, turning his eyes back to Charles, “Tell me. Who am I going to go home with tonight?... Do I have a chance with anyone?”

It was meant to be a joke, really. But there was something in Charles' features. Something lingering in his eyes, hidden beneath the surface, but _definitely_ there. He liked to think he was one of the leading experts when it came to Charles' catalog of expressions. This, however... was different. Erik frowned,

 _Charles?..._ he reached out mentally.

The telepath took a deep breath, but didn't break their locked gaze. _Erik..._

“Charles! You're a regular Houdini, my boy. You disappear and turn up in the strangest places.” A booming, amused voice cut in. Tearing their eyes away from one another, the two young men saw Moira's father approaching them. “Hope I'm not interrupting," he looked expectantly between the two.

Charles recovered first, “No, not at all.” he smiled, seamlessly back into party-mode. “Bernard, this is Erik Lehnsherr- … Erik, this is Bernard MacTaggert.”

“Nice to meet you,” the mutant nodded, respectfully shaking the older gentleman's hand.

Bernard shook back with a firm, steady hand. “How do you know Charles?”

“Oh, we're old friends.” Charles smiled, shuffling his feet back and forth on the ground. Erik couldn't be sure but it almost seemed like Charles was... blushing?

The older man hummed, “That so?”

“I'm the Best Man.” Erik suddenly blurted.

Charles had whipped his head up so fast that Erik was worried that he'd pulled something. He kept his eyes on Bernard, however, as the man laughed. “That so?!” he repeated, though much more enthusiastically this time, “Well it's a pleasure to meet you! Come on. We should have a drink. I know Leslie will be thrilled to meet you, too.” he patted Erik on the shoulder, steering him back inside.

Erik looked back to see if Charles was following them. He was, naturally... though still staring at Erik like he'd given him the shock of his life. _Had he been wrong to announce it?_ There was a chance (given his earlier reluctance and downright refusal to accept the position) that Charles had replaced him with someone else. Hank, perhaps? Hank seemed to be the obvious choice. He wanted to ask about it, but quickly found himself being dragged into a conversation he didn't really want to participate in - by an overly enthusiastic (though perfectly lovely) Leslie - who did indeed turn out to be Moira's mother.

He tried to pay attention to their discussions; covering topics that spanned from the wedding, to work, to the future, the decor of Charles' flat, and finally, to this very party and its 'delicious' catering. When the small group moved over to the buffet table to get a bit of food, Erik took his chance and slipped away – excusing himself to use the restroom. He walked briskly back down the grand stair to the main floor, where he ducked into the bathrooms by the library.

When he'd finished, he decided to avoid going back upstairs immediately. There was no rush; he wasn't hungry, and most of the guests were well into being wined and dined properly. He wouldn't be missed. Instead, Erik drifted into the library, which was certainly one of his favourite places in the lavish penthouse. It was stocked full of books, of course – a nice fireplace, plush chairs and a sofa, windows that gave another stunning view, and finally, a chess board he'd come to know very well. Erik gazed at it fondly. He and Charles had spent many evenings in here, talking, playing, sharing a drink or a debate.

He turned his attention back to the bookcases and ran his fingers over the familiar spines. His eyes landed on a copy of 'Animal Farm'. He had enjoyed that book in his youth, and he recalled it being a relatively quick read. _Perfect_. He plucked it from the shelf, and walked over to the small liquor counter to pour himself a drink. Once that was done, he settled on the sofa to start reading.

 

It was hard to tell how much time had passed, exactly. He was about three-quarters of the way through the book, still nursing his tumbler of scotch, when he heard Charles in his mind,

 

_Bernard call me a Houdini, but I think that nickname better applies to you._

 

“Considering this is the second time you've sought me out this evening, I think you're perfecting your own little disappearing act.” Erik said aloud, sensing Charles hovering just by the doorway. He looked over, noticing that the telepath looked a bit more 'mellow'. The bow tie to accompany his tux had been untied, and was simply draped around his neck. The top few buttons of his crisp white shirt were also undone; to be perfectly honest, Charles looked every bit the disheveled deviant that sometimes invaded his fantasies.

“You're drunk.” Erik deduced, watching as Charles sauntered into the library.

The Brit chuckled, “Not drunk. Tipsy. And well fed. And... exhausted, Christ.” he groaned, half slumping, half crawling onto the sofa Erik inhabited, to lay down on it. Of course, that put them in close proximity. Which was torture enough, nevermind the fact Charles shimmied up to lay on his back, deciding it would be a marvelous idea to rest his head on Erik's leg. He hummed, perfectly comfortable as he laced his hands together atop his stomach.

Erik tried not to let it effect him, but... _God_. He was being tested.

Charles, with all his boyish charms. A bit tousled, tipsy (not drunk), placid, and comfortable with being close to him. It was terribly intimate. And Erik would be lying if he said he hadn't dreamed of similar situations; living here with Charles, having many evenings like this. What he wouldn't give to thread his fingers through that soft brown hair. To stroke it. Or perhaps tug Charles closer, beneath the protective scoop of his arm, resting against his chest to doze while he read.

“You're comfy.” Charles mumbled, closing his eyes – looking perfectly content.

Erik exhaled a sharp breath through his nose, “You're tipsy." he countered, " _And_ avoiding your duties as host.”

“I'm _tired_...” he whined in a rather bratty tone, which Erik found surprisingly endearing. “I'm done playing host. I want to relax. I want everyone out.” he pouted, “Be a dear and go upstairs. Drag everyone out by their gaudy jewelery and- … tie pins, and- … watches... and... loose change...” he drifted.

Erik couldn't help but laugh, “Oh? I'm your bouncer now, am I?” Charles opened his eyes again, and peered up at him with a ridiculously childish, but earnest, expression.

“You're my Best Man. You said so...” he remarked, blinking slowly and keeping his voice soft. “Did you really mean it? You'll do it?”

He paused, drawing a deep breath as he closed the book and set it aside. “I have a very hard time saying 'no' to you, Charles. You're well aware of that.” he cleared his throat, trying to remain cool and aloof. “Though I realize I may have spoken out of turn. It occurred to me that you could have already asked Hank. Gotten a back up.”

“I didn't.” Charles answered quickly, “Ask anyone else, I mean. Only you.”

Erik pursed his lips together, “I think Hank would be the better option."

“I asked you. I want you,” the telepath insisted.

He felt pathetic. It was a terrible weakness... the fact that three simple words, 'I want you', almost had him pouring his heart out. It was difficult not to simply blurt: _Not in the way I want you to._ Not only that, but Erik had to refrain from reacting mentally to that particular phrase. Having Charles privy to his lust and obsession would only put further strain on their friendship.

For Charles' sake he needed to get over it. So, he took a deep breath, lifted his hand, and stroked the top of the telepath's hair gently. “Alright. Then I guess... I'm your man.” he smiled.

“You're my man.” Charles repeated with a somber expression. His eyes drifted closed again, and Erik could have sworn that the other mutant was leaning into his petting. It made him smile. He was about to ask if Charles intended to use him as a pillow for the rest of the night (naturally, he didn't mind), when suddenly, the telepath sat up – going from relaxed to a bit panicked as he stumbled to his feet.

Erik quirked a brow, bewildered for a moment, until he heard voices drifting down the stairway. “Oh...” he muttered.

“Moira. And her parents.” Charles cleared his throat, straightening his appearance a bit before relaxing into an easy stance for their arrival.

“There you are!” Leslie cooed, looking between them both. “Having a bit of a break from the festivities? You naughty boys.”

Erik decided to spare Charles, and stood up. He straightened his own jacket as he spoke, “I'm afraid I'm to blame. I needed a bit of a break, so I ducked down here to read for a bit. Charles came down to ensure I wasn't lost.” he mused.

“Quite easy to get lost in a place like _this_ , that's for sure.” Bernard agreed with a boisterous laugh, “As spectacular as it is. You could have the entire wedding here, I bet.”

Moira rolled her eyes, but it was Leslie who spoke up again, “Nonsense. Clearly the mansion in Westchester is the place. Charles even said so. It's a lovely location, have you seen it, Erik?”

He nodded, “I have. It's very lovely indeed. A picturesque escape for the perfect wedding.” Erik agreed.

“Well. Shall we go back upstairs?” Moira jumped in, “The crowd is thinning out a bit, but there are still a few people we should make the rounds to.”

Her parents led the way out of the library, while Moira and Charles lingered behind with Erik. “I'm afraid I have to call it a night.” he said, figuring now was as good a time as any, “I've an early morning tomorrow.”

“Well, I'm glad you could make it Erik. Really.” She leaned up to give him a friendly peck on the cheek – which he returned, “I'm looking forward to getting to know you better. Though I can't promise we won't drive each other crazy by the time this wedding is over with. Still. I've high hopes.” she grinned.

Erik chuckled, “As do I.” he turned his gaze to Charles now – who was eying him with a curious look. _Why don't you stay? Just a bit longer?..._ the telepath's voice drifted into his head again. Instead of answering, Erik extended a hand, “Charles.” he nodded, waiting for the other to shake it. “I'll see you soon.”

“...Yes.” the Brit found his voice again. “I'll definitely be in touch. We've lots to go over.”

Erik nodded, and bid them goodnight. They all walked out of the library, though instead of ascending the grand stair again with Moira and Charles, Erik diverted to the elevators. He pushed the button and (despite the voices of his conscience advising him against it) turned back to look at the engaged couple as they walked back upstairs. They didn't look back at him. Instead, they seemed rather preoccupied with their own private conversation in hushed tones.

“Good evening, sir.” the elevator operator's face greeted him once more as he stepped into the elevator. “Did you have a good time?”

Erik leaned back against the wall of the elevator, watching as the doors closed.

“...Not particularly.”


	3. Takk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, this turned out to be a longer chapter than anticipated. It's not Beta'd, apologies for any mistakes - it was completed late at night :) I will look it over tomorrow and edit if I need. Enjoy the drama x Warnings for Dickhead!Charles.

“No.”  
  
“Erik.”

“No.”

“Everyone else is going to be there! Raven and Hank, and-... you like them, yeah? It could be fun. We could make it fun.”

“No.”

Charles growled in frustration and threw himself onto Erik's sofa. The mutant in question (currently refusing the telepath's request) sat across from him in a chair, book open, not even bothering to look up from the page. “You're my best man! You can't say no. So there. It's happening. Deal with it.” the Brit grumped, “It's only two weeks. I'm sure you can handle it.”

“ _Only_ two weeks?” Erik repeated, flicking his eyes up to lock onto Charles. “You're telling me I have to go to Westchester, stay in your ridiculously large estate, and assist with the wedding preparations and upcoming ceremony for two weeks... _then_ participate in the wedding? This is what wedding planners are for, Charles.”

The groom moaned and rolled over onto his stomach, his face pressed into a decorative pillow. “We _have_ wedding planners. But it's a big estate. And a bigger wedding than anticipated. I need all hands on deck. Especially magnetic ones.” he turned his head to look at Erik again, lips pouting slightly, “If it helps, you will only be in charge of ensuring the groomsmen have suits that fit, and that the rings are safe. Pretty basic. It's easy. Easy-peasy, Erik. I promise. You're coming. That's it.” he muttered absently, rubbing his eyes.

“You look exhausted.” Erik countered the argument gently.

“I _am_.” the other sighed, “This is all happening incredibly quickly. I thought we would have lots of time to plan. Lots of time to go over everything, and think things through. But now everything's just- … coming to an end. It's happening. I'm stressed out. You know I hate being stressed out.”

Erik nodded, looking back to his book with a small smirk, “I know you hate being stressed out.” he repeated.

A peaceful silence fell between them, though Erik was aware that he couldn't keep his mind on the page (he'd re-read the same paragraph about four times now).

He ultimately knew that (despite his protests) he _would_ end up joining the others on their extended trip to the Xavier Estate in Westchester. He would help where and when he could, and in the process, try not to break his heart any further. The plan to keep his distance from Charles had vanished shortly after the engagement party. Evidently sacrificing himself as the 'Best Man' gave the British telepath free reign to visit more frequently and without notice. Most of the time, his apartment served as a safe-haven from all the 'planning' that Charles didn't want to be bothered with. He always dropped in to complain or whine – sometimes they sat in compatible silence, other times they occupied themselves with chess, and on a few rare occasions, they drank until they passed out.

It did strike Erik as a bit odd, though, he had to admit. Shouldn't the groom be more than happy to help his soon-to-be-wife with all the planning? Exhausting or not, this was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives, wasn't it?

When he ventured another glance toward Charles, he was a bit taken aback to find the other mutant already staring at him. “...What?” he asked.

Charles paused (a little longer than necessary, in Erik's opinion) before finally answering,

“When's my bachelor party?”

Erik barked out a laugh, “You're not getting one.”

“That's absurd! You must. It's your job to provide me with a fond farewell party composed of limitless alcohol, recklessness, and scantily-clad people.” Charles whinged again, sitting up and glaring at him.

He couldn't help but smile, “I don't know what kind of secret double-life you presume I lead that would indicate I know how, or even where, to get what you just described. Also, I thought making sure the groomsmen all had 'suits that fit' and 'taking care of the rings' were my only two duties. That's what you said a moment ago.”

“Bollocks.” Charles huffed, slouching on the sofa and eying Erik with a mischievous grin, “Where's the Erik Lehnsherr who used to be daring, and exciting... and _adventurous_ in University?” he goaded, “The Erik Lehnsherr who slept with over _half_ of our graduating class; who rode his motorcycle, and caused trouble, and dressed to kill?”

Erik laughed, “I still dress to kill. And I think you're exaggerating, slightly. You make it sound like I was a regular James Dean from _Rebel Without A Cause_.”

“There are worse people you could be compared to.” Charles smiled. “You had the act down.”

“You're just saying that because you had a school-boy crush on James Dean.”

Charles' cheeks flushed and he turned around to flop back down on the sofa – his back pointedly to Erik, “I did not.”

“You did,” he smirked, “You told me so when you were drunk. After the Genetics Department had that graduate party, remember? You started going on-and-on about the magnetism of the character and how I reminded you of him because I happened to be wearing a leather jacket at the time?... Any of that ring a bell?”

The telepath didn't answer immediately, “I'm pretty sure you made that up.”

“Believe me, Charles. _No one_ could make that up. That little confession came out of nowhere. One minute I was sitting on my bike, ready to leave and saying goodbye to you... and then next thing I knew, you were standing right next to me – gripping the collar of my jacket and trying to comb my hair with your fingers; trying to make it look the way he had it in the film.” he teased fondly.

He could see Charles stiffen and curl into himself more, knowing that the back of the sofa would be the only witness to his blush this time.

“But, regardless... _that_ Erik Lehnsherr grew up. Those parties and stunts and encounters were unfulfilling, to say the least.”

There was another pause, before his companion's voice spoke up again, “Unfulfilling?” he pressed, turning to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling.

“Don't get me wrong,” Erik continues quickly, knowing Charles was probably thinking about his own past as a known 'enthusiast' for many sexual encounters. He was, at times, worse than Erik. And he certainly didn't want to offend his friend. “Rebounds can- … _could_ be... a really fun distraction. But when it's all over, you're still left thinking about the person you really cared for.” he shrugged, “I guess I just got tired of it.”

Charles didn't respond at first. He simply stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Erik turned back to his book, and was only able to graze a few sentences before the Brit spoke again, “Helped with the loneliness, though.” he asked.

“Well, you're lucky then. You don't have to be lonely anymore.” Erik answered without missing a beat. He was struck by Charles' silence, and a bit of a tension in the room. _Oh._ He thought. “I don't mean that sarcastically...” he added, “I- … Charles, I _am_ happy for you. Truly. You're a good person, you're thoughtful and caring, attentive and sensitive of others and- … you don't deserve to be lonely. I'm glad you found Moira. You won't be alone again.” he nodded, offering Charles a smile.

He looked away, but could tell Charles was still staring at him. Taking a short breath, Erik stood and abandoned his book on the sidetable, “I could use a drink. Don't know about you.” he muttered, keeping his eyes away from the telepath as he made his way to the kitchen.

It was only when he was out of sight that Erik gave himself a small, mental pat on the back. Christ. He really should get an award. A medal. _Best_ -Best Man Ever. He was usually quite a selfish man; he liked his independence, he got what he wanted and settled for nothing less but the best. So allowing Charles to slip through his grasp was painful, but... unavoidable. He wasn't prepared to lose the telepath as a friend, so the only option was to suck up those feelings, and be there for him in whatever way he could be.

“Wine, Charles?” he called, uncorking the bottle, “Or... I might have some beer. Somewhere.” he muttered to himself absently, grabbing a wine glass down from the shelf. Though when he settled back to pour a glass, he tensed. A familiar heat was pressed against his back, and Charles' arms were wrapped around his waist; the telepath's head resting between his shoulder blades. “...Charles?”

His companion didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to huff a heavy sigh against his back.

“Charles.” Erik repeated.

The telepath shifted, “You haven't said anything bad about Moira.” he noted. “You haven't even tried to talk me out of this. The temptation to read your mind is almost unbearable.”

“I've nothing bad to say about her. You obviously love her... given how quickly you proposed.” Erik said as formally as possible. “You picked her. I assume being a telepath gives you a healthy advantage to know who your own soulmate is.”

Charles scoffed, “Soulmate? That's a bit strong.”

“It _isn't_ , actually. Most people who get married consider themselves to be _soulmates_.” Erik countered, his voice coming out a bit harsher than before, “What do you expect me to say, Charles? I don't know what you _want_ from me. I'm trying- … I'm... doing what I can to help you with all this.”

The shorter man released him, stepping back to meet Erik's eyes as he turned, “You just seem to be handling this all a little _too_ well,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “I expected you to b-”

He was cut off when Erik turned, grasping the front of Charles' cardigan in his fist, while the other hand gripped his arm – shoving him back against the neighboring wall of the kitchen, “You expected me to **_what_ ** , Charles!?” he hissed angrily, glaring at the short Brit. “Throw a bigger tantrum? Move to another city? Break up the wedding?” Erik clenched his hands tighter, watching as Charles' eyes widened in a mix of shock, fear, and apprehension. “YOU did this. _You_ are the one who teased me, and dragged me along, only to toss me aside and get engaged to some mystery woman you'd never mentioned before in our ten year history!” he snarled, “And now- what? You're stroppy because I'm not _fighting_ for you? Because I'm handling this 'too well' for your liking? I'm _too_ supportive?!”

There was a sudden blast of pain behind his eyes, and Erik stumbled back – collapsing against the kitchen counter as he gripped the top for leverage to keep himself upright. He blinked a few times, groaning as his head came back into focus, and looked up to lock his eyes with Charles' furious blue.

“I didn't drag you along.” the Brit spat, “I _didn't_ tease you.”

Erik laughed, shaking his head, “Fuck you, Charles.” He pushed himself back up to standing, still using the counter to support himself. Damn. That little telepathic punch to his mind had really disoriented him. “Call it whatever you wish. We were getting close... things were _progressing_. Shit, you slept with me twice.”

“I was _smashed_ , Erik, I would have gone home with a gardening tool if it had shown interest.” Charles answered quickly; cheeks flushed and eyes blazing.

Silence flooded the kitchen – Charles, who seemed to instantly regret his words, while Erik was stunned into a distant stare by this new information. “...Well.” he stood up a little straighter, “Thank you for clearing that up.” He abandoned the wine glass he'd poured, and instead, grabbed for the bottle. “I'm sorry for _influencing_ you to sleep with me while you were drunk.”

“Erik. I'm sorry. That isn't- … I didn't mean it like that, I-”

“Get out, Charles.” He tossed back, not even sparing his companion a glance as he left the kitchen. The fact that the telepath's voice had wavered as he had attempted to retract that little confession didn't stall Erik from moving down the hall and into his study. He slammed the door, locked it for good measure, and took a healthy swig of wine from the bottle.

Fuck.

That was a bit of information he could have done without.

 _Is that how it happened?_ He recalled being just as buzzed as Charles both times they had slept together. He knew the telepath was a 'friendly' drunk, but... Erik didn't think of himself as the instigator in both those instances.

He recalled conversations, flirtations, comfortable touches. Hell, Charles was the one who kissed him _first._ The second time, yes, Erik had kissed him. But he'd always been tentative about it. Being a few years older than Charles (and knowing the Brit had a habit of making some poor decisions when under the influence), Erik had _tried_ to do the responsible thing. He hadn't wanted to jeopardize their friendship. But after their second time having sex, he thought they were on the track to moving their relationship to the next stage. It was a logical assumption, wasn't it?

“Shit...” he cursed, slumping down into one of his leather chairs, taking another swig from the bottle.

It was all irrelevant of course. If Charles saw their encounters as a mistake; if he viewed Erik as the one who had nudged them into it... then there was nothing to be done. He'd dug his own grave. He truly _had_ read too much into those moments.

And that stung more than anything else that had happened in the last five months.

That ' _Best_ -Best Man' award he'd thought he had earned earlier in the evening had flown out the window. Those feelings he'd tried to keep under wraps had exploded in the worst possible way. A pulse of _guilt-sad-humiliation-regret-confusion-self hated_ ran through him.

“...Erik?”

He tensed when he heard Charles' soft voice call his name in what sounded like a choked sob.

“Erik, please. Open the door.” he begged, “I'm sorry. I truly am. I didn't- … of _course_ that wasn't- … I mean, you weren't to blame. There was no _blame_ , I mean. It came out wrong. I was angry, and you... just... Erik, please. Open the door?”

He took a deep breath in, “I told you to go, Charles.”

There was nothing but silence for the next few minutes before he finally heard the telepath moving away from the door, and back down the hall. There was distant shuffling before Erik caught the sound of his front door being opened and closed again. He sagged further into the chair in relief, taking another drink from the bottle before resting it back on his thigh.

_Erik Lehnsherr. Top engineer at Stark Industries... and a complete and utter fool._

He finished the bottle of wine himself that night. Followed by a few glasses of scotch and some vodka he found near the back of his liquor cabinet.

 

* * *

 

 

His life was pretty cut-and-paste for the following week. He went to work, he came home, sometimes ate dinner, had a drink, did a bit more work, and went to bed. He ignored Raven's not-so-subtle texts inviting him to dinner, or a night at the bar or movies.

He had high hopes for being able to avoid everyone, at this point, until he heard a rapid knock on his door Friday evening. He set aside the blueprints he'd been going over, and walked to the front door – both surprised and annoyed to see Raven and Hank standing there. Well, Raven looked incredibly pissed off and ready for a fight; Hank seemed to be cowering behind her a bit, as if he was simply there for moral support.

“I would ask how you got past the doorman, but...” he started wearily, heaving a sigh as Raven stomped over the threshold. Hank nodded to him sheepishly, and slipped in before he closed the door.

“Wasn't hard.” she shrugged, “All I had to do was shift into a giant dick,” she emphasized her point by changing into his likeness, “and watch as people got out of my way. Even the doorman. It's impressive, really... the number of people you've terrorized and scared off.”

He glared at her, “Why are you here, Raven?”

“Charles is upset.” She shifted back into her blonde form, moving over to the living room where Erik had taken a seat again in front of his work. Hank was still hovering a bit awkwardly around the room, though was gravitating toward the extensive bookshelves.

Erik barked out a laugh, “Oh? _Charles_ is upset, is he?” he repeated harshly, “And did your dear brother tell you why that is?”

Raven actually hesitated a bit, before taking a seat across from him. “He did,” she admitted more gently, “He said you both said some things you didn't mean that night. Though... he was particularly hard on himself.” She kept her eyes locked on him, even though Erik was content to just look down at his work for the time being. “He said he hurt you. He devalued your- … well... whatever it was that happened between you both. He _is_ sorry, Erik. He's worried you're going to bail out of the wedding now.”

The metalokinetic huffed, but didn't answer. He wasn't planning on dropping out of the wedding. He'd made a promise, and intended to see it through, though he wasn't inclined to apologize, either. He was too stubborn, and Charles had pushed the wrong buttons that night.

“Erik. Are you?” Raven pressed, looking just as anxious about it herself.

He shook his head and sighed, “Yes, I'm... still going.”

“Good. Thank fuck for that,” she beamed, seeming to relax more now that she had her answer.  "I'm going to write down the details you'll need. We'll be leaving for the mansion in a few weeks.” Raven grabbed one of his documents, and began to scribble the instructions down on the other side. He pursed his lips – wondering whether or not to reprimand her for ruining his work – but decided it wasn't worth the hassle in the long run. He took the paper as she handed it over, glanced at it, then put it aside.

“Great. Well. Thanks for coming,” he stood, intending to usher them out.

Raven, however, clearly had different ideas, “You're not getting off that easy, Lehnsherr.” she laughed, bouncing over to pull Hank away from the bookshelves. “We're going out tonight. You've been cooped up alone all _week_ avoiding us. Alex is working at this hip new 'pop-up' bar tonight. They have a rooftop patio and there are going to be fireworks over the East River. We'll have a great view!” she explained excitedly.

“...I don't know. Not really in the mood.” he tried to deflect.

“Erik, if I can drag _Hank_ along, I can drag you along. At least you're somewhat in your element.” she teased, slipping her arm through Hank's and giving him a tender peck on the cheek. The tall genius blushed, but leaned into the contact.

Erik couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until they had their own happy announcement. “Fine.” he relented, “I'll come for a bit.”

“Great! But... change your clothes.”

He paused, freezing mid-way to look at her. “What's wrong with my clothes?”

“We're going to a hip new bar, Erik, not a beatnik poetry reading.” she teased, eying his turtleneck and dark gray trousers. “Your clothes are well and fine for a trendy working-man, but not for a bar.”

 

* * *

 

 

Erik wasn't old.

He wasn't _that_ old. At least, he didn't consider thirty-five to be old. Sometimes he felt it, but only when he hung around Raven, Hank and some of the other 'kids' who were only in their early twenties. Then again, aside from Hank, they were all a bit immature, so that may have had something to do with it. Charles was the closest to his age at thirty. He could still remember meeting the telepath in a Classic English Literature lecture while they attended University; he had been dubious about the fact a boy five years younger than him was somehow enrolled in his year. But Erik quickly discovered, as did many others, that Charles was close to a certified genius.

Still, his fears about being 'too old' for a pop-up bar were gently pushed aside. The crowd didn't look _too_ young, thankfully. They were all very trendy and attractive, though. Erik was rather grateful that Raven had made him change; a simple white t-shirt beneath his black leather bomber-jacket and jeans would definitely be better received than a turtleneck. She had been right about that. He ran a hand through his hair, scruffing it up a bit more as he followed Raven and Hank through the throngs of people who were 'invited' to this pop-up experience. He'd noticed a lineup outside the door, too, though chances were those people wouldn't be getting in anytime soon.

As they moved through the crowd, something else became very apparent to him. This was definitely a mutant-friendly bar. He started noticing different physical mutations that were more obvious than others; all still smiling, and not bothering to conceal themselves. Turning his attention back ahead, he saw Raven shift into her natural blue form – black cocktail dress still on to keep her modest, but unafraid of the admiring stares she was getting now. He smiled to himself, glad that places like this were becoming more common. They shouldn't have to hide. In the past few years, mutant rights had skyrocketed, and many had stopped hiding all together. There was always a bit of resistance, especially from a political standpoint and through more radical groups. But with mutants being integrated into the educational systems, and even local law enforcement, the violent attacks and riots against mutants had dropped significantly by about sixty-two percent.

“Charles!”

Raven's voice secured his attention again as he looked ahead to where they were coming to a stop. The group was by the bar – Alex behind it, already chatting away and serving his friends. Sean was greeting Hank, while Raven slid around to greet her brother. His eyes settled on Charles while he was preoccupied with his sister. He was dressed in a black cardigan, over a horrendously loud patterned t-shirt, and jeans. Erik wondered briefly if Raven had a hand in dressing _him_ as well, since her brother had been comfortably settled in his 'professor-esq' attire for a number of years now. He supposed the cardigan was a compromise. Moira was beside him, wearing a simple navy blue dress that was classy but 'trendy' in it's simplicity.

“Erik,” Alex smiled, approaching him over the bar counter, “You made it! This is great, huh?”

The German mutant nodded, giving the younger man a smile, “It is.”

“What can I get for you?”

He considered his options, and decided “Just a beer for now. Whatever's good.”

Alex nodded and popped open a bottle – handing it to him before moving over to take an order from Raven and Hank. Erik's eyes slid around Raven to see Charles staring at him with a bizarre mixture of emotions on his face. He couldn't quite tell what the other man was thinking, or whether he was pleased or upset to see Erik had come at Raven's request.

The mutant in question moved over to tug on his arm, pulling him over closer to their little group huddle by the end of the bar, “It took a bit of convincing, but I managed to lure the dragon from his den.” Raven laughed, patting Erik on the back as she nursed what looked to be some kind of fancy Cosmopolitan. Now faced with Charles and Moira head on (who were looking at him expectantly from across the circle), Erik did the only thing he could. “Charles.” he nodded greeting, “Moira. You look nice.”

“Glad you made it, Erik. You've been M.I.A for a while,” she smiled, leaning across to give him a friendly peck on the cheek. He nodded to her again, watching as she settled back by Charles' side; the two of them pressed snugly against one another. Moira fell into an easy conversation with Raven, Hank and Sean, while Charles tried to look involved with it as well – though his eyes constantly slid over to look at Erik.

Not that he was looking at Charles – in fact, Erik was keeping his attention on the crowd of patrons, admiring their mutations – but it was hard to miss the sight of Charles turning every so often to look in his direction through his peripheral view.

“Looking for prospects, Erik?” Moira teased.

Erik looked back to see the group focused on him now, “Maybe.” he challenged, giving them all a smirk, “This would be the sea to fish in, that's for certain.”

“Right. You like physical mutations, don't you? Kinky bastard.” Raven laughed, leaning more comfortably against Hank. She scanned the crowd, and then gestured to someone, “I think you should go for her.”

Everyone in the group tried to follow her gaze, until they settled on a young woman – fairly normal looking, though her features had more of a 'feline' quality to them; large almond eyes, faded pink nose, slightly puckered lips (no whiskers, thankfully), and two perky ears protruding from her hair. There was a tail swishing playfully behind her as well.

“She looks... fun.” Hank agreed.

Charles laughed, “Yeah, she's not Erik's type.”

“She could be.” he shrugged, appraising the young woman a little longer, “She's beautiful.”

“She's not your type.” Charles insisted again, “Besides, you just told me the other night that you're not into one-night stands anymore.” The whole group looked back to the telepath, surprised that Charles seemed so vehemently put-out by the whole idea. Even Moira looked a bit confused.

Erik, however, wasn't about to buy into his friend's sudden spark of unfounded jealousy, “And _you_ asked me where the 'old' Erik had gone. So. Maybe tonight's the night to rediscover my reckless side.”

“That's the spirit!” Raven bounced, “Go talk to her! You have that whole... mysterious-dark-handsome stranger thing going on right now.”

Moira nodded, “It's the leather jacket. You look more dressed down than usual. Approachable.”

“I pride myself on being _un_ approachable, though. That's part of my reputation.” he argued, looking back to the feline mutant.

Raven scoffed, “Well obviously you need to drop that reputation when you come to a bar. How else are you going to pick up? Now go on...” she placed a hand on his arm and gave him a nudge toward the crowd. “I'll come get you when we're about to head up to the roof.”

Erik sighed, and steeled himself, before beginning to weave through the mutants to get to the feline hybrid. He tried not to think of Charles – and how he could still feel those eyes glaring daggers into his back – and instead, tried to remind himself on _how_ exactly he was supposed to chat-up new people. A woman, specifically. He definitely hadn't done that since Uni. But luck was in his favour as the feline met his eyes as he approached, and smiled coquettishly.

He gave her a small, easy smile back – and then gestured with a slight tilt of his head toward a less crowded section of the bar. She nodded, and said something to her two companions, before falling into step beside him as they made their way to a quieter part of the venue.

  


To Erik's surprise, it was a lot easier to chat her up than he expected. Her mutation was obviously the first point of conversation. He openly told her how he admired it – how beautiful he found her attributes and how someone so exotic and stunning should never be forced to hide. She was flattered, of course, but seemed just as intrigued and interested by his mutation. He demonstrated a few tricks and was pleased that she responded so enthusiastically... even going as far to suggest that her metal bedframe at home could be transformed into something else entirely. Not so subtle, but encouraging, none the less.

It was nice to speak to someone new. He hadn't interacted with anyone outside his usual social group (small as it was) for a few years now, and he'd forgotten how pleasant it was to get to know someone. Alana, he discovered, was a writer for some fashion magazine; she was fairly intelligent, though books were admittedly not something she enjoyed. Still. She was witty and charming, and her tail seemed to have a mind of it's own – sometimes drifting to wrap around his leg or waist while they spoke. Things were going so well, in fact, that between a few more drinks and good conversation, Erik was surprised to see Charles approaching them with a slightly thunderous expression.

“We're going to the roof now.” he said firmly, sparing Alana a quick glance but nothing more.

Erik looked between them both, “Alright. Well, I'll be up in a minute.”

“ _Now_ , Erik. I know what 'a minute' means.” Charles grumbled, “If I leave you here, you'll _stay_ here and chase tail for the rest of the night.”

Alana's face tensed and Erik couldn't help but notice her tail puffed up a bit in size. She was pissed, and rightfully so, as Charles had basically insulted her. And contrary to how accommodating and friendly the telepath usually was – that persona was missing at the moment. He seemed agitated.

“Alright.” he said, turning back to Alana. Lifting his hand, he hovered her mobile toward him – grinning as she found her smile again. He opened her contacts, and added himself to her list. “Contact me when you're ready to leave. I'll walk you home.” he offered.

She nodded, taking back her cell phone when he offered it back to her – and leaned up to place a sweet, lingering kiss on the corner of his lips. She accented that with a bit of a rub; her velvety ear skimming his jawline as she retreated. It was surprisingly hot, and Erik considered what that chances were of him being able to cut out early; if she had some feline instincts, he could only imagine what it would feel like to take her to bed. _What it would be like to bite down on one of those velvety ears, or if she would purr when he-_

“Erik.” Charles snapped. Maybe he'd been projecting a bit too much.

He gave her another smile, and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, before leaving her company – and heading back through the crowd toward the stairway that led up to the roof. “You're in a pissy mood.” he muttered, sparing a glance for his friend as they jogged up the stairs.

“She's twenty-five, Erik. You're _ten_ years older than her.” Charles answered, obviously avoiding the question.

He shrugged, “Well, then I should be flattered, shouldn’t I? Ten years isn't the end of the world. She was nice.”

“Don't bull-shit me. You're _mildly_ attracted to her mutation, that's all.” the telepath insisted.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Erik turned back to face Charles, dripping his voice in sarcasm as he replied, “You think I'm so shallow? My my, Charles. Why remain friends with me at _all_ if I'm the kind of person who hits on women ten years younger than me, is attracted to physical mutations _only_ , and forces myself upon intoxicated friends?”

“Erik.” Charles sighed, looking up to meet his eyes now. He looked worn out; more tired and distant than usual. A bit sad, too. “I said I was sorry. I meant it. I _really_ didn't mean- … that night, or... rather _both_ of those nights were really important to me. I-”

The metalokinetic tensed, “I don't want to talk about it, Charles. It's fine. I'm over it.” he insisted quietly, not wanting to cause some kind of dramatic scene between them. “We're still friends, and... I'm still going to be your Best Man.”

He hoped that would appease the telepath, but instead, Charles looked more distraught. Like he was bursting with the need to say something. Erik didn't know whether or not he wanted to hear whatever it was, given their last conversation. To his immense relief, Raven chose that moment to intervene,

“Charles! I said _I_ would get Erik,” she reprimanded.

He rolled his eyes, “You were too busy sticking your tongue down Hank's throat.”

“Yeah, and _you_ probably interrupted Erik's dating game. You've been a brat all night.”

Charles looked aghast, “I have not! I was trying to-”

“Besides,” Raven cut in, “Moira's looking for you.”

That silenced Charles, though he looked extremely reluctant to leave Raven and Erik on their own. He did eventually, though still didn't seem like his mood had improved at all. “I think it's going rather well, don't you?” Raven giggled, slumping against him slightly.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, sturdying himself to support her.

She gave him a pointed look, “Please. Do you honestly think I'm the kind of sister who would push you into hitting on someone else, when I know how you feel about my brother?”

“I had wondered, yes...” Erik sighed.

“Well, Charles might be a genius, but he can also be a colossal idiot.” She continued, rummaging around in her small purse for her cigarettes, “And after he told me about your fight, I figured tonight would be as good a night as any to test a theory.”

Erik took the pack of cigarettes from her when she fished them out, and removed two from the package, “And that would be?”

“That Charles loves _you_ just as much as you love him.” she smirked, placing one of the cigarettes between her lips to light it.

He tensed up again, holding the cigarette he'd commandeered for himself still for a moment, before bringing it up to finally light it, “...That's a bit of a stretch. He's engaged. And he made himself more than clear a few nights ago.”

“Engaged isn't married. And in case you haven't noticed, Charles has been unraveling slowly but surely the closer we get to the wedding. He's not... happy.” She added, exhaling a stream of smoke past her blue lips, “And, really. Who gets _that_ jealous when a 'friend' goes to hit on someone?”

He had nothing to say to that, really. He had thought there was a chance Charles was jealous, but hearing Raven say it was a bit more troubling. “Christ,” he groaned, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. “What do you want me to _do_ , Raven? I've tried. I really have – I'm trying to wade through this emotional manipulation without losing it. And the last time Charles and I were alone together, I _lost_ it. I don't have a lot of options here. Either I let him go, or I make an ass of myself and try to stop the wedding.”

“So, stop the wedding.” she shrugged.

“Oh, just that simple, is it?” Erik growled, “And we all live happily ever after?” he took a deep drag of his cigarette, and shook his head, “He _chose_ her, Raven. He chose her. He proposed, the planning is under way, and in less than a month we'll be at your estate, and I'll have a front row seat to watch them tie the knot.”

Her eyes drifted over him sympathetically, “He thinks you hate him.”

“It would be a hell of a lot easier if I did.” he muttered. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, finishing their smokes, before he spoke again. “So, what. I should go home alone tonight?”

Raven shook her head, “No. I think you should take Miss Kitty-Cat home, if she's up for it.” she smiled, “You might as well show Charles that you're not going to hang around like an old maid. You're a catch, Erik. A bit frigid for my tastes, but... a catch, none the less. You're protective and stable, you're smart and handsome. You don't _have_ to be alone if you don't want to be.” She punctuated her point by wrapping her arms around him in hug.

“Don't touch me, you smurf.” he teased, feigning resistance.

She pulled back and slapped him on the arm, “Fuck you, you can-opener.”

Above them, fireworks began to explode in the sky over the East River. Raven squealed and took off, back to Hank's side. Erik noticed Sean, Alex and the others by them as well – though Charles and Moira were a few feet away from them. Their arms were around each other, and Moira was placing sweet kisses on Charles' cheek and jaw.

Erik hung back, shifting over to the side – out of the way and on his own – as he looked up at the splashes of shimmering colour painting the dark sky. Escorting Alana home would be simple enough; she was interested, as was he. It would probably be fun, and he _did_ have a bit of a physical-mutation kink.

  
But those positive-points didn't stifle the words he'd said to Charles from rolling around in his head,  


_Rebounds can be a really fun distraction. But when it's all over, you're still left thinking about the person you really care for._


	4. Njosnavelin

 

“I always forget how huge this place is.” Hank muttered, pushing his glasses further up on his nose as they got out of the car.

Erik nodded as he too looked around the extensive grounds; lush and green, private, well kept. He'd only been to the mansion a handful of times himself, but as Hank had said, it was easy to forget just how massive the estate really was. It was a blessing, really. Much easier to make himself disappear if-and-when the wedding preparations became too much...

“You're here!” Raven's excited voice carried across the otherwise quiet driveway as she bounced from the door into Hank's arms. “Took you long enough.” she teased, shooting a glance to Erik, before pecking her boyfriend gently on the lips.

Raven, Charles, Moira, and a few others had come up two days ago. Erik (who could thank his lucky stars) had to work until Friday, as did Hank – so rather than carpool up with the rest of the wedding party, he had offered to give the boy a lift so they could come up after their respective shifts. It had been a quiet car ride, though Erik hadn't necessarily minded. He enjoyed quiet. And Hank was a good enough guy. He hadn't even ventured into 'dangerous' territory by bringing up Charles' name during their drive.

“Everyone's just sitting down to dinner.” Raven explained as Hank and Erik got their luggage out. “You're just in time.”

Erik pursed his lips briefly, “I think I'll just head up to my room. It's been a long week.” he sighed, almost expecting Raven to kick up a fuss.

But instead, she just smiled, and slipped her hand into Hank's. “I'm sure there will be leftovers if you get hungry. We've enough food stocked here to last three months, and that's not even counting the food that will come with the caterers. So raid the fridge when you're up for it.” she offered, tugging Hank along toward the mansion entrance.

Erik followed behind, trailing his eyes along the stunning, old architecture as they made their way inside. He always felt like he was stepping back into the Regency era whenever he came here; the décor, the space, the art and design. It was all lovely, but he could only imagine what it must have been like to grow up in such lavish surroundings.

The sound of wafting voices and laughter from further down the hall where Hank and Raven had veered off to startled Erik into moving a bit quicker. He ascended the grand staircase, hoisting his luggage up so it didn't drag or bump on the stairs, before setting it back down once he reached the next floor. He briefly wondered if he should have inquired as to which room was his... but then again, he already had a particular room he liked. It was in the North East wing of the estate, three rooms away from the one Charles usually occupied. There was an en-suite bathroom, a large desk (which had served him well as he had brought work with him during previous visits), and because of the location, he often rose with the sun in the morning when it streamed in through the large windows.

He took a deep breath when he finally reached the sanctuary of the room, and nudged his way in – the metal bits in the door reacting humbly to his presence and closing behind him once he was inside. The room was impeccable as always; bed made up, enormous and inviting, a nice leather chair tucked in the corner, tidy desk, and bookshelves lining the walls. The windows were open as well, allowing a nice autumn-evening breeze to drift in. It was going to be winter soon, but thankfully the weather hadn't changed for the worst yet. Besides, he preferred colder temperatures. Erik pulled his luggage in and set it atop the bed before unzipping it and beginning to unpack.

_Not hungry?_

He tried not to tense at the sound of Charles' voice inside his head. The Brit sounded a bit hesitant; his usual bravado missing, as there was still a bit of awkwardness hanging between them. They were still on speaking terms – but since their night out at the pop-up bar a week and a half ago, their relationship had definitely become a bit more... delicate. Cautious. Erik felt like he was walking on eggshells around the telepath, and he knew Charles probably felt the same. They had been cordial and accommodating of one another, but their usual teasing tones and secret smiles were gone.

 _No. Long day. Just looking forward to a bit of rest._ He finally answered.

Charles didn't respond immediately, which Erik interpreted as the end of the conversation, until he heard, _You sure? We've some wine and good conversation to go with the food. Might be just what you need after a long day._

 _Thank you, but no. I'm alright,_ Erik closed his eyes, _Goodnight Charles._

_...Goodnight, Erik._

Erik knew he would really have to dig deep, and pull whatever fondness he still had for Charles to the surface before tomorrow. He was going to be his Best Man. This wedding was _inevitable_ , and despite what hiccups they had both endured along the way, he **had** to move on. After all, there was a very real chance that if their relationship was permanently damaged... Erik would never see Charles again. He and Moira probably wanted to start a family right away; the telepath had always been fond of children, and no doubt wanted a brood of his own.

If he had to, he would box up his feelings and settle for being 'Onkel' Erik. He could spoil those children rotten.

So it was time to get over Charles Xavier.

Erik finished unpacking, taking a healthy swig from the flask he'd brought with him – before settling down into the chair by the window with a book, and a cigarette.

_How To Get Over Charles Xavier - Chapter One: Acceptance._

 

 

 

So maybe he was hungrier than he'd let on... but Erik hadn't felt like putting on airs and trying to uphold conversations so shortly after arriving.

Which was how he found himself in the kitchen at half-past two in the morning raiding the refrigerator. He found it well stocked, as Raven had said, and it looked as if they had eaten a nice roast chicken for dinner. There was also a variety of salads, some potatoes, even gravy. He hummed to himself, working silently as he fixed himself a plate and warmed it up in the microwave. Holding his plate and a glass of wine (also found in the fridge; only half a bottle of red left, while four empty bottles sat out on the counter) – a fork and a knife hovered silently behind him as he made his way to the table. Setting everything down, the knife and fork followed and came to rest gently on the wood surface of the table. He began to wolf down the food, savoring the fact that everything _was_ very well-cooked and tasted delicious (even reheated).

Though two creaks by the doorway immediately put him on guard, and before Erik could even _think_ about it – muscle memory kicked in, and his hand shot out; his knife and fork flying across the room to embed themselves in the wooden doorframe.

“Well...” Charles muttered, holding his hands up, “That's certainly one way to say 'leave me alone'...”

Erik released a long breath, and stood, “What were you _thinking_? Sneaking up on me like that in the dark...” he growled, yanking the cutlery out of the wood. “Make yourself known, next time. I could have seriously hurt you.”

The Brit smiled, scruffing the back of his hair as he padded into the kitchen. “You didn't, though. It's fine. All's well that ends well, hm? No casualties.” Charles opened the fridge and began to poke through it, while Erik returned back to the table, “How's the food?”

“Hitting the spot.” Erik answered, settling himself down in his chair again before digging back into the meal. “I'm surprised you're up.”

Charles shrugged, leaning back out of the fridge with a beer in hand. “Never could sleep very well here.”

The metalokinetic nodded, knowing full well that while Charles had cherished and enjoyed growing up with Raven – his relationship with his parents had been _less_ than ideal. And all the money in the world, along with the finest education, couldn't make up for an absent mother who preferred alcohol to her children - and an abusive step-father who, thankfully, was rotting away in a grave no one cared to visit.

“So, after four bottles of wine... the answer to insomnia is beer?” he teased.

Charles smiled, walking over to the table to take a seat beside his friend, “Well. Can't hurt, right?”

They sat in compatible silence for a while. Charles seemed content to let Erik finish what was left of his late-night supper, before his plate was clean and he was pushing it away. The mutant took a drink of wine, steeling his nerves, before he looked up at the telepath.

Unsurprisingly, those large doe-eyes were already settled on him.

“So.” Erik huffed, taking another sip of wine, “Two weeks.”

Charles bit his lower lip, “Two weeks.” he confirmed, tipping his head back to take a long swig from his beer. “Shit.”

“It'll be fine.” he reassured the telepath, “Everyone's here now. We'll help you get it all sorted, and then all you'll have to do is... walk down that isle.” he mused.

Charles' face blanked, “Oh. Yes. By the way, I should have mentioned- … you're carrying me down the isle.”

Erik stared at him.

“Bridal style?”

“No, no. Very dignified. Over the shoulder. Like a sack of potatoes.”

Erik couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth at the idea, and dryness of Charles' delivery. His friend beamed, bursting into a giggle himself. A wave of _friends-happy-relieved-nice-to-hear-you-laugh-again_ was projected from Charles, causing Erik to compose himself a bit quicker. “Well. As long as it's memorable.” Erik continued, “Play something upbeat, at least.”

“What like... Country House?” the telepath grinned, quirking a brow.

The mutant chuckled, “Well you do have an unhealthy obsession with campy British pop. And that song sounds like it was written just for you.”

“Oh piss off.” Charles laughed, crumpling up a napkin and tossing it at Erik. “My taste in music is _extremely_ trendy.”

Erik laughed, “No liebling, you only _think_ your taste is extremely trendy, when in fact its extremely dated and oh-so-British. I know you better than you think.”

He downed the rest of his wine, awaiting a rebuttal that never came. He looked back to Charles expectantly, but saw instead of irritation or a massive sulk, a look of... extreme fondness. His lips were curled in a soft smile, his eyes gentle. “I missed this.” he admitted quietly.

Erik could feel that familiar coil in his abdomen; his heart thumping a bit quicker in his chest. “Yeah... me too.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “So let's both of us try not to fuck up a good thing.” he said, standing and clearing his plate and glass to the sink. He rinsed them briefly, before going back to grab Charles' beer, “Finished?” he asked, already picking it up.

“Yeah...” the telepath frowned a bit, watching Erik shuffle around to get the kitchen back in order. “You're going to bed?” he asked, the _'when we were just starting to have fun?'_ left hanging in the air, unsaid.

He nodded, “I am. And so are _you_.” Erik smiled, tugging Charles up from his seat and herding him back through the kitchen, down the hall and to the stairs again. “We've got to get a start on things tomorrow, right?... You should get some rest while you can.”

Charles whined and huffed as he allowed himself to be pushed and nudged up the stairs.

“What about my bachelor party?”

“No bachelor party.”

“You promised.”

“I didn't.”

“You did, I remember.” Charles smiled, “You said: _Charles, you're far too good looking and intelligent to be sent off to married life without a grand farewell party. I'll do everything possible to make sure you want for nothing_. That's what you said.”

Erik laughed, shoving Charles particularly hard up the last step so he stumbled a bit. “You really are a brat.”

Charles scrunched his face up and charged, trying to shove Erik – but he was taller, and a bit more agile. He easily dodged the attack, and before he knew it, the two of them were tearing down the dark hallway, pushing and shoving and trying to trip each other up as they drew closer to their rooms. Charles (still a wee bit tipsy from his previous wine and last beer) fumbled comically and rammed his knee into a small table by his room, which sent Erik into a fit of laughter as the telepath tried to hobble quicker to compose himself – cursing and giggling all the while.

“Charles?...”

Both stopped, cutting off their childish antics as Moira stood at the doorway to Charles' room. She looked sleepy, leaning against the frame and eying them both curiously. “It's almost three am.”

“Sorry darling.” Charles muttered sheepishly, “Coming in now.”

She didn't look appeased by the answer, but seemed too tired to press. Her eyes turned to Erik and she smiled thinly, “Goodnight Erik.”

“Goodnight Moira.” he nodded, sparing a glance to his friend, “Charles.”

Erik continued down the hall a few more doors before reaching the last one, his room. He turned the handle but chanced a quick look back toward the couple. Charles – oddly enough – was still watching him. He couldn't make out the telepath's expression in the darkness of the hallway, given the distance, but he didn't have time to decipher it before Moira was tugging Charles back into their room.

It was only when he heard the click from their door, that Erik slipped back into his own feeling full and... oddly content.

 

 

 

The week at the mansion, surprisingly, went well. Erik re-discovered a sense of immaturity he thought had disappeared. Though he figured it had a lot to do with _Charles_ and _his_ sudden childish behaviour. They sat through the final discussions regarding flowers, decorations, center pieces, music arrangements, cake tastings, wine and champagne tastings, menu sampling and the overall timetable. And all the while, they exchanged looks – giggled at inappropriate jokes (only exchanged telepathically of course) while humoring the planners as they fussed about their business.

Moira and Raven didn't seem incredibly happy about their “renewed playfulness” when they had “serious decisions” to confirm regarding the ceremony... but the boys couldn't help it. Charles lost it during the visit from the tailor to do their suit fittings, when Erik emerged wearing Charles' intended tux; blatantly too short and small on him. Hank, Charles, Alex and Sean tried to stifle their laughter, while Moira and Raven remained unamused. Even when Erik offered an innocent, “...What?” as if he weren't wearing an absurdly ill-fitting suit.

When the elder Mr. and Mrs. MacTaggert arrived, Raven and Moira managed to separate the pair – by having Charles stay with them at the mansion to finalize what was left, while Erik was sent with Hank, Alex and Sean to make a run into town. While there, the boys decided to stop for a few pints while they did their errands, and when they arrived back at the mansion, Charles was less than thrilled that he'd missed out on the drinks, and spent the remainder of the evening in a sulk.

Which worked out quite well, in Erik's mind...

He'd had to twist Raven's arm (despite his earlier protests against throwing Charles a bachelor party) to find a way to get Moira, her mother, and her bridesmaids out for the evening. It wasn't going to be a bachelor party in the traditional sense, but Erik knew Charles could use a good night of drinking and fun with his mates, that wasn't hindered by trying to keep face around his fiance or her family.

So the following day, while everyone else went about planning and clearing out rooms of the mansion for particular functions – Erik confirmed the attendance of some of Charles' friends (a list thankfully provided by Hank), and drove into town himself to pick up the kegs he'd ordered as well as some food. With Alex and Sean's help, he managed to slip everything through the back kitchen and pantry area where it could be kept out of sight until that evening.

Raven had managed to get Moira on board with her version of a bachelorette party – which would have them bar-hopping in the city, and spending the night at a fancy hotel (courtesy of Charles' credit card). Her mother Leslie was keen to go along as well, and Erik had extended the invitation to her father, Bernard, to stay for their party - but he declined; evidently he would away that evening to meet up and stay with a few extended relatives who were coming in for the big day.

When it was time for dinner, Raven, Moira, her parents and Charles headed out to have a meal in the city. The telepath tried to insist Erik join them as well, but luckily Raven and Moira had his back, and explained it was just a small outing with the 'immediate' family.

Charles had given them a bit of a glare, and reprimanded both for implying Erik was anything _less_ than family (which was actually quite touching), but Erik soothed his worries and promised he wasn't offended in the least. Once they were all finally out of the house and down the driveway – Erik sent a blanket text to alert Charles' friends that the coast was clear to come over. Alex, Sean and Hank helped him set out the food, the kegs, and get the barbeques going out back.

An hour and a half later, when Charles walked through the door – the sound of ' _Alright_ ' by Supergrass hit his ears. He frowned, a small smile creeping onto his face as he weaved through the house toward the kitchen – and out the back toward the courtyard out back of the estate. That's when he saw his companions, his groomsmen and Erik; drinking, eating, and now... cheering and toasting his arrival.

Charles laughed out loud, and immediately started jumping up and down, both in excitement and in time to the music. Erik chuckled and shook his head, taking another swig from his beer. It was a side people rarely saw of the Brit; his immaturity and playfulness shining through when he was over-excited. He was always a bit fun, of course, but also excessively polite and accommodating. Taking care of Raven whilst growing up, as well as working as a university professor, had given Charles permanent 'Big Brother' syndrome.

It was nice to see a spark of the boy he'd met in Eton.

“You threw me a bachelor party!” Charles exclaimed, drawing Erik from his thoughts as he was practically pounced upon. Erik laughed and patted him on the back, gesturing with a tilt of his head toward Sean – who had come forward to hand Charles a beer. “I knew you would!... Well, actually I didn't! I didn't think you would, really, I mean- … I certainly wasn't expecting it now because- oh! Moira! No, they'll be back tonight, won't they? Or was that the plan? Wait, w-”

Erik laughed, “Charles!” he cut the other off, “It's all worked out. Moira, her mother, and Raven are going to be out with the bridesmaids all night. They're staying at a hotel. You can be as reckless as you want tonight, but for fuckssake, stop rambling and enjoy yourself.”

“...You threw me a bachelor party.” the telepath repeated fondly, looking directly back at Erik.

He cleared his throat, disliking the way his heart still fluttered a bit faster when Charles  _looked_ at him like that. “Yes. I did. Now you can stop pestering me about it.”

Charles laughed and 'cheered' his cup against Erik's – as they both brought it up, and downed the entire thing in a few swallows. Immediately, Charles began jumping up and down again in time to the music,

“You're playing my favourite songs!” he yelled.

Erik, Sean and Hank (who'd now joined them) all laughed again as Sean pushed Charles playfully, “It's your iPod. Full of all the cheesy stuff no one else has.”

“I don't care!” Charles moved over to the keg and began to pour himself another beer. 

Hank and Sean followed, all of them chattering together as they explained the layout of the party to Charles. Erik hung back to watch them all, though his eyes repeatedly cataloged Charles' facial expressions. He looked so damn happy. Happier than he'd looked in months; it was as if the past five minutes had already taken five  _years_ off his life. 

When he felt his heart lurch in his chest again, he cleared his throat and walked back over toward the barbeques (which were now being manned by Alex) to distract himself and check on the food.

It quickly became very apparent to everyone that Charles (who had probably already had a few drinks at dinner) was intent on getting as smashed as possible. He drank quickly, engaged the others in contests, and showed off his stamina when it came to knocking back beer after beer. It didn't seem to result in him getting drunk any faster, though the ones that joined him certainly did.

At one point, Erik pushed Sean into the pool – which inspired other people to push each other in. It was only when Charles attempted to push Erik in, that he himself was hoisted up by his Best Man, and tossed into the water. That led way to on-the-shoulder pushing battles in the pool, then progressed to using a nearby snorkel and goggles as a makeshift funnel to drink shots.

When those who were waterlogged finally dried off – the party progressed to further out onto the property, where a few bonfires were lit and more alcohol was consumed. It was a good thing they had no neighbours for miles, as the group was quite loud at this point. A quick scan verified (in Erik's own mind) that he was, perhaps, the  _least_ intoxicated out of everyone. He was a bit tipsy, sure, but continued to boast that Germans 'simply knew how to hold their alcohol'. 

Charles, on the other hand, had gotten  _completely_ wasted.

To the point where he could barely walk from point A to B without someone assisting him, or at least keeping him upright and on track. That 'someone' was usually Erik, though Sean, Alex and Hank all took turns playing babysitter.

“M' gonna vomit, Eri...” Charles groaned, slumping to the side.

Erik caught him easily, and lowered him down to sit by one of the unoccupied bonfires. “You're not going to vomit.” he said, pushing a waterbottle into Charles' hands, “And stop calling me 'Eri'... it's pointless to drop the 'k' to try and give me a nickname. My name is short enough. Erik. Erik, Erik.” he repeated.

“Erik... Erik, Erik Erik... Eeeeeerik...” Charles repeated, mumbling around his waterbottle as he drank from it like a sleepy toddler. 

The German mutant smiled, and rested his elbows on his crossed legs – peering across the property to the more occupied bonfire that was closer to the keg. What guests remained were huddled around it – still chattering loudly and laughing in good spirits. Most of the crowd had cleared out, though, too drunk and unwilling to take up space in the mansion now that the decorations for the wedding were set up.

“I had fun. This was... _so_ fun...” Charles murmured with a dopey smile, looking beside him to Erik.

Erik laughed, “I'm glad.” he nodded, only sparing his companion a brief glace before turning his attention across the yard. It was better that he kept his staring to a minimum. Being tipsy and in the company of one another had gotten them in trouble before. And so close to the wedding, Erik knew it probably wasn't the best idea to venture down that road.

Charles, however, seemed perfectly content to not only go down that road, but drive the car right into the proverbial bushes as he shuffled over, and plopped himself down into Erik's lap. “Charles!” he hissed, blinking in confusion as he tried to shove the Brit off while simultaneously glancing around the telepath to make sure no one was looking at him.

“S'fine,” he slurred, wrapping his arms tightly around Erik's shoulders. “I'm telepathing... they won't see.”

Erik couldn't help but huff out a breath, and smirk, “You're telepathing?” he repeated.

“Telepathing.” the brunet nodded seriously, leaning his body against his friend in a comfortable sag. Erik had little choice but to bring his arms up to cradle Charles' back and hips... purely so that he didn't fall over, of course. That was justified, wasn't it? Though why Charles was wrapped around him like an octopus and resting his head alongside Erik's - his nose buried into the German's temple – was still a mystery.

“Tired?” Erik sighed, wondering what he'd done in a past life to deserve _this_ kind of torture. But he was resigned to his fate. 

Having Charles close, but being able to do nothing about it, was going to be his life from now on.

Charles shrugged his shoulders minutely, but didn't answer. Erik stared across at the other bonfire again. The music had long since changed from Charles' campy Brit pop to something more subdued and relaxed for the chill-down of the party. He thought he recognized the melody of what was playing, but at this distance, couldn't place the song or make out the lyrics.

“If you throw up and it goes down my back, I'm going to be very unhappy, Maus.” he told the other cautiously, though there was a loose smile on his lips.

The telepath murmured, and nestled his nose closer to the soft, warm scent just behind Erik's ear. The other man pursed his lips and tried not to let it get to him, but damn if Charles wasn't pushing his luck. Erik wasn't drunk, but he was tipsy enough to lower the walls of defense he'd been building up this entire week. But the other mutant was so damn appealing. He felt so young in his arms, settled in his lap; comfortable, trusting, close.

“We should get you to bed.” Erik tried, hoping to spark _some_ conversation, lest he get caught with Charles passed out atop him.

It was only then that Charles pulled back a bit, staring right at Erik only inches from his face. “...Then take me to bed, Erik.” he answered, sounding remarkably sober for someone as gone as he was.

Erik swallowed and bit his tongue, pulling what will-power he had left to ignore such a blatant invitation. So instead of giving in, Erik placed his hands under Charles' arms and helped hoist him up onto his feet. “Erik!” the telepath protested, wobbling a bit as he settled his footing.

But Erik ignored him, “Come on. Let's bid everyone else a goodnight. You can thank them for coming.” he encouraged, brushing himself off before steering Charles back across the lawn toward the busier bonfire. The shorter man seemed to resist him a bit, weakly trying to turn them back toward their private bonfire, but Erik was a damn sight sturdier and more determined. The boys left at the bonfire teased Charles a bit upon arrival, but were soon bidding him a fond goodnight at Erik's insistence.

Erik told Hank to ensure that the bonfires were properly extinguished once everyone left, and that he'd be down later to help them clean up the mess. With that, he continued escorting Charles back into the mansion. It took a _bit_ longer to get the telepath inside and upstairs, seeing how he constantly was trying to evade Erik's grip in the hopes of darting back outside. Though his unsteady steps make herding him a rather effortless task.

 

“There we go...” Erik mused, pushing Charles forward a bit more so he tumbled forward and onto the large bed. “Nice and comfy, isn't it?”

_Errrrrrik...._

“Use your words, Charles.” he answered, rummaging through the other man's drawers as he looked for pajamas for him.

_You joining me?_

 

The German mutant sighed, and glanced back to give his friend a heatless glare, “Not one of your best ideas, Charles.” He finally pulled out some flannel pants and a simple gray t-shirt for the telepath before heading back to the bed. “Put these on.” he instructed, tossing the clothing at Charles while he headed for the ensuite bathroom. He closed (and locked, for good measure) the bathroom door behind him before sinking back against it.

“Christ...” he groaned, rubbing his eyes and blinking away the haze of alcohol that was trying to cloud his judgment.

Letting Charles get _this_ drunk was probably not HIS best idea, either. He knew how Charles got when he was intoxicated, and Erik was wondering why he was even surprised that the telepath was getting a bit cheeky in an all-too-familiar way.  Erik was determined, however, that he would be strong enough to resist this time. He had to be. After everything that had happened, it would be so wrong and...

“Stupid.” he said aloud to himself.

He gave himself another minute or two to stare at his own reflection in the mirror; to steel himself for this next hurdle, before finally opening the door.

“Scheisse...” Erik breathed out. His eyes immediately sought Charles out. Charles – who was standing in nothing but a loose fitting pair of pyjama pants. The shirt Erik had tossed him was discarded and forgotten on the floor, and the telepath was staring at him. His cheeks were flush, his eyes were a bit glossy, but his pupils were certainly dilated.

Needless to say, Erik recognized that look.

“Charles. Get into bed.” the German muttered, his throat suddenly feeling a bit tighter; his own face threatening to flush as his eyes drifted appreciatively over his friend's torso. Charles didn't answer, but instead, stalked forward – keeping his eyes locked with Erik – as he approached. “Charles.” Erik warned again. His body tensed and his hands immediately clenched into fists (as if that would somehow keep him from touching the other man) as the telepath reached forward, and slid his fingers through the belt loops on Erik's pants.

He tugged forward, dragging Erik back toward the bed. “Charles, stop...” Erik growled. He was, contrary to his protests, beginning to pant a bit. His desire for the man quickly overtaking his otherwise rational mind. Once they were closer to the bed (the bed Charles was sharing with his fucking _fiance_ , Erik tried to remind himself), the telepath's fingers slid over to start undoing his trousers.

The jolt sent to his brain actually helped snap Erik out of his daze, and his hands shot forward to grip Charles' wrists, stopping him. “Charles.”

But instead of listening to him, Charles surged forward and pressed their lips together, moaning wantonly against Erik's lips as he pressed closer. Erik's head swam – drowned in Charles' emotions as he projected strongly: _keep-Erik-love-kiss-want-want-lust-friend-trust-want-love-want-want..._

It didn't take his resolve long to disappear completely. He was always so weak when it came to Charles. Charles – who was getting married, Charles who had led him on, Charles who had written off their first few encounters as drunken mistakes. Erik's brain continued to wave red flags, warning him that this scenario was not so different from times past.

But God... his hands, lips and body were moving on their own now. He was kissing back just as heatedly; his torso slotting between Charles' legs as he pushed them back onto the bed. Already bare chested, Erik's lips and tongue trailed their way down the telepath's toned, slender chest – while Charles busied himself with trying to get Erik in a similar state of undress. When they had both hastily shed the last of their clothing, Erik found himself kneeling between Charles' legs again; the younger man spread out beneath him, flushed, panting, aroused.

 

And yet... as Erik lowered himself to fuck Charles in the greedy, ruthless way he always did, three words continued to float aimlessly through his mind.

 

_Desperate._

 

_Pathetic._

 

_Fool._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update :) still working on this story, but work has been hectic lately.
> 
> Music referenced: Country House – is a song by Blur (referenced by Erik) , Girls and Boys – Blur (also played while Charles is at the party) , Fly – Nick Drake (playing by the bonfire at the end of the party)


	5. Glósóli

 

Erik was immediately aware of two things when he woke up.

One, he was not in his own room. Two, he was naked and sprawled on his front. Those facts rattled around in his sleep-idled brain for about a minute, before yet another fact struck him. He was _alone_ in this bed... and that certainly hadn't been the case last night.

Groaning, Erik pushed himself up on his forearms and turned himself around; coming to rest on his side as he took in the room. It was morning now, though a bit overcast. The room looked warm and familiar, bathed in dark wood and the same lavish comfort that was steeped into every corner of the vast Xavier mansion.

Charles was standing by the large mirrored armoire, adjusting the tie he'd just finished with; tucking it properly into the vee of his sweater vest before smoothing his hands down the front of it. Prim and proper again. He didn't seem startled out of his task, nor did he speak at first. Instead, Charles looked at Erik through his reflection in the mirror. His eyes softened momentarily into something... apologetic. Guilty, even.

“Moira and the others will be back soon.” Charles cleared his throat, “You- … you should probably, um- …” the telepath trailed off, leaving the indication unsaid – but painfully obvious.

Erik's jaw clenched and his lips pressed tightly together, worried that if he were to ease up, he would simply blurt out a selection of choice curse words and painful accusations. Instead, he moved tensely out of bed, and began to dress in an automatic and brisk fashion.

 _Stupid_. This was stupid. It was the stupidest decision he'd ever made. Really, he hadn't even been intoxicated; merely subdued by the enjoyable vibe of the bachelor party and... tempted by Charles' drunk and blatant come-ons. It was his own fault. Erik knew that. He was weak and helplessly defenseless against everything and anything Charles wanted. And for the briefest of moments... he had thought (or rather hoped) that the British telepath would come to his senses. That he'd realize he cared deeply for Erik, and Erik for him, and that marrying Moira was clearly not an option.

Instead – the metalokinetic had woken up to reality. Just that. Reality.

“Erik...” Charles' voice tentatively sounded again.

But Erik didn't speak. He pulled on his shirt again, before marching toward the door. He opened it, and only paused to give Charles a sharp glare – as if warning him not to speak and continue that thought - before he was gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sufficient to say, the camaraderie that Charles and Erik had rebuilt during their brief time at the mansion was left in tattered remains the day before the wedding. The rest of the week had played out as usual; more wedding plans, finalization, the arrival of more guests, and heightened anticipation. Erik was grateful for all the distractions. It meant he and Charles were never alone at any given point. So he could pointedly ignore the puppy-eyed looks the telepath would throw his way sometimes. Or the way he would stare, and knock gently at Erik's mental shields in an effort to communicate. But Erik kept himself totally blocked off. He had decided that since his night with Charles (their _last_ night, his mind supplied), he had to let the other mutant go. He was marrying Moira, and despite Erik's efforts, Charles didn't see him as a legitimate prospect. Erik was just fitting himself into the role of 'the other woman' so to speak, and now that the wedding was upon them, he felt sick. He felt pathetic.

Giving up Charles would be one of the most difficult things he'd ever have to do. But Raven had done her part (after catching the mood between both men over the past few days) and had reminded Erik that he was still a strong, capable man. Intelligent, attractive - “...if not a bit too brooding sometimes,” she'd added - and would be considered a 'catch' to most people. If Charles wasn't prepared to give him his heart, he would be able to find someone, with time, who would.

The big day was soon upon them. And like most weddings, it was a lively, happy affair. The dining hall, which usually felt so empty and massive, was full of guests and close family members now – all seated at numerous tables. The ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Though if Erik was being honest with himself... his breath did catch when the officiator asked if anyone had any reason why the couple 'should not be wed'. And he could have sworn that his heart stopped beating for nearly a full minute when it was Charles' turn to utter those two defining words:

_I do._

And Erik had been forced to stand there. And watch. Clear view and all.

Charles and Moira were seated at the center of the long table at the front of the room, side by side, with her parents on either side. Followed by Raven and Hank – then Moira's bridesmaid, and finally Erik himself. It was a loud and chatty atmosphere and the metalokinetic found himself all too happy to just sit and eat in silence, occasionally tuning in to some conversations around him... but mostly just keeping to himself.

Glasses began to clink, commanding the attention of the room as the maid of honour stood up and began to give her speech. Erik wanted to disappear into his chair. He'd forgotten all about the fact he had to talk about Charles... and how... _great_ he was. Maybe he could duck out to the washroom and they could skip him all together. Raven would want to say a few words, surely, so there was a chance he could convince her to talk instead.

The maid of honour's speech seemed to come to an unmemorable end rather quickly. Much to Erik's dismay. Guests and family were applauding and toasting, before their eyes fell on Erik.

He took a breath, and stood slowly – smoothing down the front of his suit and tie. “Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends..." he started, clearing his throat; looking both reluctant and somewhat irritated at the fact he had to give this toast in the first place. The guests tittered, though, apparently finding his reluctance endearing. He was certain that would change..

"When Charles first approached me about being his best man I was... confused. Uncomfortable and caught off guard. I didn't entirely understand why he was asking _me_ of all people. Considering the friends he has, and how blissfully _pleasant_ and _happy_ they all are - I figured I would have been at the bottom of that particular list. Not because we aren't... close..." Erik hesitated, taking a breath. He could feel Charles' eyes glued on him, though he didn't dare look over. He kept his eyes locked on his champagne flute instead. "But because out of all his friends I am the most... unlikable. To me - a wedding is nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and indulgent, selfish and irrational and... sentimental. It's a glorified party to flaunt the news that two people have found love and solace in one another, while the rest of us are are forced to wade through the rough waters of the real world, adrift and alone.”

Erik blinked, catching the fact that his voice had definitely taken on a harsher edge by the end of that monologue. He sounded (and indeed felt) bitter. The guests looked amongst themselves, confused and a bit put-off by the change of tone. He could feel Charles once more lapping gently at his shields, but he ignored him, and continued,

“The point I'm trying to make is that I am... one of the most unpleasant people you might ever have the misfortune to meet.” Erik clutched his champagne flute a bit tighter, “...So if I didn't understand why I was being asked to be best man, it's because... I never expected to be anybody's best friend. And certainly not the best friend of the most honorable, the kindest and... wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing."

People 'awed' and murmured approvingly, some chuckling with a spatter of applause - while others beamed wide smiles at him as if he were being incredibly charming. Clearly, the speech had gotten back on track.

"Charles, I am a disagreeable man... who is redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship." he paused, steeling himself and gathering his nerve as he finally looked over to the couple. "Moira. When I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable." He lifted his glass, "To... Charles and Moira."

The room echoed ' _to Charles and Moira_ ', applauding and cooing as the couple shared a sweet kiss. Erik downed his glass of champagne nearly in one gulp, before quickly taking his seat again.

Wait-staff and servers began to file into the dining room, ready to serve dinner now that the speeches were over. Erik wasn't hungry though. He felt ill, and off balance. Uncomfortable in his seat, in his skin. The reality of what had just transpired was finally washing over him again... Charles was married. They wouldn't see each other as much, if ever again, after this whole debacle.

And while Erik _knew_ deep down it was for the best – while he _knew_ it would be foolish of him to give Charles any more chances, any more power over him after everything that had happened...

Erik was hurt.

He stood up, muttering a simple 'excuse me' to Raven when she cast him a look of concern. He pushed in his chair and briskly began to take his leave now that everyone was distracted by dinner. Leaving, of course, involved walking behind Charles and Moira where they sat, in order to get to the door. Moira was speaking to her mother – and Charles... well, Charles was focused entirely on Erik as he passed by.

“Erik...” the telepath called, hoping to interrupt his friend's determined pace. But Erik didn't slow down, nor did he even look at the other man as he passed. He simply made a b-line for the entrance and disappeared from sight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He took some time.

Did a few laps around the opposite wings of the estate, stopped in the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, and stepped outside for a cigarette before _finally_ going back inside to the dining hall. The guests were all on dessert now – still drinking and chatting more boisterously now than when he'd left. A few people had migrated to the dance floor too, now that the music was playing. Erik thanked whatever deity he could that he had, apparently, missed the couple's first dance. That was definitely something he didn't want to see.

He spotted Charles and Moira on the far side of the room now, talking to the guests; making their obligatory rounds. Erik slipped over to the bar undetected, and ordered a shot. He downed it instantly, then ordered a stiff drink to follow that he could nurse while he licked his wounds. The metalokinetic spotted more people on the dance floor, which meant more tables had free seats; sporadically placed around the room. It would serve well for chair-hopping and keeping a low profile for the rest of the night, if need be...

“How are you holding up?” Raven's voice interrupted his thoughts as she arrived at the bar.

She stood beside him, looking genuinely concerned. “I'm fine.” he answered before she could elaborate, his voice a bit raspier than he expected. Erik shrugged and shifted on his feet. “Might not stick around for too long. I've got to hit the road early tomorrow.”

Raven didn't say anything. She did, however, place her hand on his forearm, and squeezed it gently in silent support. “What are the chances you'll dance with me before you slip off?” she asked.

“Not sure _Hank_ would appreciate that.” Erik mused, offering her a weak smile – but not a genuine one. “Another time, Raven. I promise. Not today.”

He expected her to push and nudge him into giving in, playful and energetic like she normally would be. Instead, Raven seemed to understand the severity of his mood. She nodded, and leaned forward to kiss him briefly on the cheek before leaving him in peace again. Erik finished his drink and immediately ordered another.

It continued like that for a while. He kept one eye on the happy couple, to ensure they didn't get too close, and the rest of the time he was drinking by himself, slipping out for cigarettes, or dodging concerned friends (it seemed Raven had enlisted Hank, Alex and Sean to also check on him from time to time, until he finally barked at them to leave him alone). When most of the guests were on the dance floor, Erik caught sight of Charles and Moira in the center – bopping along with everyone else to the upbeat song playing. Though amidst the dancing, he saw Charles occasionally look up and around... like he was looking for someone.

Worried that he was the focus of the search, Erik left his emptied glass on the bar, and made a quick exit. Talking with Charles _now_ would undoubtedly be more painful than anything else he'd experienced up to this point. He didn't want to hear any more apologies or excuses. He didn't want to hear 'you'll always be special' or 'we'll always be friends' platitudes designed to make him feel good, while justifying Charles' behaviour.

Erik managed to escape upstairs and away from the party – the wing he was staying in far enough away from the festivities that he couldn't hear anything anymore.

_/Erik?.../_

He froze just inside his room at the sound of Charles' voice in his head. He immediately projected a number of stop signs, alerts, warning signals, and walls being shut up tightly to convey that he _didn't_ want to be disturbed.

 _/Yes, I realize your shields are firmly in place and you don't want to let me in but... you've avoided me all night.../_ The voice continued, _/You didn't really leave me any other options.../_

Erik clenched his jaw and shrugged out of his suit jacket. _/Leave me alone, Charles. I've nothing to say to you./_

There was another beat before Charles spoke again,

 _/Your speech was... heartbreaking,/_ he uttered gently, _/...I really need to talk to you, Erik. Please./_

The metalokinetic undid his tie and tossed it aside, drawing his shields up again. _/There's nothing else to talk about Charles.../_

_/Erik please./_

He tried to leave his mind blank; thinking only of metal walls, locked boxes and barriers. Anything he could to get the point across that he didn't want to be spoken to. Eventually, he felt Charles' presence retreat, and he heaved a sigh of relief – collapsing back to sit on his bed.

The longest day of his goddamn life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He was only a little hungover when he woke up.

Erik was just glad he'd had the foresight last night to pack up all his things so he could leave the mansion as quickly as possible. It was almost seven am, but given the way everyone was enjoying themselves last night, he figured the guests who had stayed over would be asleep until at _least_ eleven am. He dressed and freshened up in the bathroom before gathering his luggage. He made his way back down the staircase and out the front door – intent on getting into his car and driving back to the city alone. No small talk or car pools necessary.

Erik wasn't sure whether or not to be surprised to see Charles standing right by his car. He had a sudden urge to walk back to the city instead, and wondered how plausible that would be.

“Not very.” Charles spoke up, finishing his thought.

Now that he was able to get a closer look at his friend, he noticed that the telepath looked unusually... somber. Distraught even. “You were going to leave without saying goodbye?” the other man continued, smiling weakly. It didn't quite reach his eyes, though.

“I believe we said our goodbyes two nights ago.” Erik replied coolly, opening his back door to toss his luggage inside. As he closed the door, he looked up at Charles again, “You were very clear on that.”

The Brit swallowed, his eyes looking tired and a bit watery. Erik would usually be concerned, but it was hard to know whether this was just an act, or he was genuinely upset. “Erik I don't want to leave things like this. I can't- … “ Charles sighed and rubbed his eyes, “There are reasons for this. I _had_ to do it, and I can't explain now, but... you must trust me...”

“ _Trust_ you!?” Erik barked out a bitter laugh, storming over to stand right in Charles' space, “I've done nothing _but_ trust you from the start. And what do I have to show for it?...” he snarled, “You've led me on. Toyed with me – _twice_ – and I've let you. Go manipulate someone else. Play your mind games with Moira, and keep me out of it from now on.”

Charles looked as if he were trying very hard not to burst into tears, but kept his mouth shut.

It was only when Erik stepped away; when he was opening the driver's side door to get inside, that Charles spoke again, “Your speech...” he said quietly, swallowing the clear lump in his throat. “You're not adrift, Erik... and you're certainly not alone...”

The metalokinetic only hesitated for a moment before he slipped into his vehicle, keeping his eyes downcast from Charles.

He started the car, pulled out, and was determined to leave the estate without looking back at where he knew Charles was still standing in the driveway.

And he almost made it...

But the image of Charles' reflection in his rear-view mirror stayed with him for the entire drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since many of you will be able to pick it out - Erik's best man speech about Charles is inspired by/taken from BBC Sherlock - i.e. Sherlock's best man speech about John. It has always stuck with me and is so touching, that I found it perfectly fit into the dynamic of Charles/Erik. So I do not own that 'speech'... just whatever else was written :) Apologies for the late update.


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